


I Found the Stars, But I Lost My Mind [DISCONTINUED]

by grimdarkpixels



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Autistic Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Daniel & Simon (Detroit: Become Human) are Twins, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Implied/Referenced Nudity, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, The Gangs All Here, Werewolf Markus, connors just being a bro, everyone in jericho is a werewolf, non-graphic body horror, thats a lie i am slowly reworking it but this version is dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-08-07 17:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16412975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimdarkpixels/pseuds/grimdarkpixels
Summary: Connor lived alone. Imagine his surprise, then, when he came home late one night from a trip to the grocery store to see a dog staring at him through his backyard fence.The canine’s most striking feature was its eyes. One was blue, the other green, and they both looked like they were staring straight through Connor’s soul.Those eyes looked all too…human.





	1. Creature

**Author's Note:**

> owo whats this?
> 
> is it another mcfucking multichapter fic? you better believe your ass!!!! im just hoping i finish this one because ive got a lotta ideas for it and a vague idea of how to string it all together and im just playin by ear here dngkdsn
> 
> if anyone can tell me what song the title is from they win a random meme from my camera roll [winks with both eyes]

Connor lived alone.

He was used to this, of course. He’d moved out of his father’s house years ago, and he hadn’t heard from his mother since he was thirteen. He was single, most of his friends moved out of town for business or vacations they never came back from, and he didn’t have the time or energy to keep a pet.

So, living alone was his only real option. Which didn’t mean he was always alone, mind you - he still talked to his father regularly, and at least a few of his coworkers were pleasant enough to spend time with. But when he came home, all that awaited him was his computer and all the food and Netflix he could stand to consume until he went to bed.

It was sustainable enough. But Connor was alone. Connor was _lonely._

Imagine his surprise, then, when he came home late one night from a trip to the grocery store to see a dog staring at him through his backyard fence.

Connor’s eyes widened in confusion as he took in the sight of the creature. He couldn’t recognise its breed. Some kind of mixed breed, perhaps? He could recognise features similar to a husky, or maybe a wolf hybrid of some kind. Though its large size and dark brown fur made it closely resemble a small bear.

The canine’s most striking feature, though, was its eyes. One was blue, the other green, and they both looked like they were staring straight through Connor’s soul, sizing him up in a similar manner to what Connor was doing.

Those eyes looked all too…human.

As stupid as it sounded, Connor had a feeling that this dog wasn’t ordinary.

He held his eyes on the dog as he approached the front of his house, rushing inside to deposit his groceries on the kitchen floor before quickly heading to the back door, hoping it didn’t decide to leave before he could get a closer look. When he entered the backyard, he was greeted by the creature, sitting in his backyard with its head cocked to one side and its tail wagging slightly.

Connor thought hard about his options. He should probably call animal control, or take the dog to a vet and see if it was microchipped, or…

He was getting ahead of himself. He couldn’t see a collar from where he stood, and that would be a much more obvious sign of identification. Slowly, he crouched down and reached a hand out, offering it to the canine.

Its tail wagged slightly faster, its odd eyes sizing Connor up again before it stood up and slowly came closer to sniff his hand. Connor brought his other hand up to cautiously pet the creature’s head, smiling when its eyes closed in what Connor hoped was content.

Connor stroked the dog’s head with more confidence, scratching its ears and neck in a way he hoped was pleasant. Now that he was closer, he could see the dog had small scars on its face. Its right ear was partially torn, and it had an old, nasty looking cut just above its right eye. Maybe it was a stray. He couldn’t feel a collar around the dog’s neck; more evidence pointing towards that likelihood.

If it _was_ a stray, it was very well behaved. And its fur looked well kept; perhaps it had recently been abandoned. Or maybe it did have an owner after all, but they were just one of those irresponsible people who didn’t collar their pets and let them wander around town to get hit by cars and mate with other people’s dogs without a care in the world.

Anger tugged at Connor’s chest the longer he thought about such things happening in his neighbourhood, so he snuffed it out.

He continued stroking the dog thoughtlessly. It didn’t seem to mind the contact, which was good. And its fur was _really_ soft. The texture beneath Connor's fingers was soothing, and he couldn’t help but smile when the dog licked its nose and let out a quiet “boof.”

“Good dog,” Connor whispered, tilting his head as he felt his smile stretch wider. The dog’s tail wagged faster when Connor spoke, and it tilted its head and body slightly, like it was trying to roll over. Connor sat down on the concrete tile in front of his back door and giggled when the dog flopped over onto its back, allowing Connor to scratch its belly. He couldn’t help but notice more scars on its legs and chest, and he felt his heart ache in sympathy.

“Poor guy, what’ve you been through?” he asked, despite knowing he’d never be able to get an answer.

Connor wasn’t sure how much time he spent petting the dog, but when he remembered time existed, he checked his phone, which told him it was 10:07 PM. He’d come home at about 9:45. He cursed under his breath, remembering he’d never actually put his groceries away. He ceased running his hands through the dog’s fur and stood up slowly. The dog whimpered in protest, pawing at his leg in what looked like an effort to make him stay longer.

“I’m sorry, boy, but I have to go inside,” Connor reasoned in a sympathetic voice. The dog whined again, and Connor wondered if it was hungry.

“Are you hungry?” he asked the creature. He wasn’t sure why; he didn’t have a lot of food in the house, and he wasn’t sure how much of it was safe for a dog to eat. The dog didn’t seem to mind though, if the way he perked up and started wagging his tail again was anything to go by.

“Okay. Wait here, and I’ll be back in a bit,” Connor said. He hoped the dog could understand the command ‘wait,’ and the dog barked softly in reply. Connor was already in the middle of turning around, but he could’ve sworn the dog nodded at him.

Now wasn’t that a silly thought?

Connor rooted through his cupboards and groceries, searching for something he would consider an appropriate meal for a canine, and eventually pulled some steaks out of his fridge. The label told him they’d expired yesterday; he’d hoped to cook them by then, but his dad invited him out to eat yesterday and it completely slipped his mind. In any case, the steaks were still probably fine to feed to a dog…probably.

He came back outside to see the dog lying on the ground, his head resting on his paws. He looked up and stood at attention when he saw Connor again, now holding a package that smelled strongly of beef.

Connor began tearing the packaging open. “Here you go. Sorry, I don’t have much else to give you. Well, much else that I know won’t hurt you.”

Connor lowered the packaging down to the dog’s level, allowing him to inspect the steaks inside before dragging them out and scarfing down both in just a few bites, like he hadn’t eaten in days. Which was a possibility that Connor couldn’t rule out.

“Jesus! You really are ravenous, aren’t you?” he exclaimed, setting the packaging aside and sitting back down to pet the dog again, scratching his ears and chin gently. He boofed in reply and leaned into Connor’s touch, tail wagging furiously.

“You remind me of my dad’s dog,” Connor admitted. “He was surprisingly energetic until he got older…it’s still scary how fast the big lug can move when he wants to, though,” he chuckled.

Thinking about Sumo was always bittersweet. He was lazy and more inclined to sleep all day than go for walks, but he was still dopey and loyal despite that. But he was getting up there in terms of age; the last time Connor heard about him, the vets had said they'd be surprised if he survived the year…

Connor slowed that train of thought to a grinding halt. He hated remembering that Sumo was close to the end, and he definitely didn’t want to think about it when he was actually in a decent mood for the first time in a while. The dog nudged his head against Connor’s hand again, looking up at him with eyes full of…sympathy? No, don’t be stupid.

In any case, the creature’s gaze made it a little easier to shake the thought away.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Who’s a smart boy?” Connor cooed, smiling when the dog barked happily.

He stayed outside for another few minutes to pet the dog before he decided he needed to eat something himself and then go to sleep, hopefully some time before 3 AM. He considered calling someone to look after the dog one more time before deciding against it. He was just too tired for a phone call right now, and something told him he already had someone else looking out for him, even if he was a stray. He gave him one final pat on the head before he stood up again.

“I have to go now, boy. I’m sorry I can’t stay with you any longer.”

The dog whined a little bit.

“I know, I know. I want to keep petting you, but it’s getting late. Stay out of trouble for me, okay?”

Connor smiled down at the canine, then turned around and went back inside. He’d occasionally look out through the back window and see the dog still in his backyard, even when he headed to bed at just about 2 AM.

When he woke up the next morning, he checked the backyard to find it empty. His heart sank just a little; he'd almost hoped the dog would have stayed, even though he knew he couldn't actually take care of it.

As he continued through the day, and the rest of the week, the dog with mismatched and too-human eyes wasn't far from his mind. Something was off about him, but Connor couldn't put his finger on it. He found himself worried for the dog’s safety and almost kicked himself for not calling someone, or even telling anyone about him.

And then, a few weeks later, he came back.

This time, Connor didn't spot him right away. He was in his living room, half paying attention to some Netflix show, when he heard scratching from the back of his house. He tried to ignore it, but when the noise kept persisting, Connor relented and stood to address it.

“Oh, you agai--? _Oof!_ ” Connor yelped as he opened the back door only for the dog he'd met a month or so ago to jump up at him. It was then that Connor realised exactly how big he was; he nearly came up to Connor’s mid-thigh when he was on all fours, but when he was on his hind legs his head was at Connor’s eye level.

(And considering that Connor was about six feet tall, last time he'd checked, he found that fact equal parts alarming and impressive.)

Connor barely managed to keep his balance and gently pet him on the head. “Good to see you, too,” he laughed.

So Connor spent another evening petting, feeding and talking to a dog that he didn't even know the name, breed, or vaccine history of. And that’s how Connor continued to spend an evening every month, because the dog kept coming back. Connor began to look forward to the dog’s visit, began to look forward to playing fetch with whatever sticks and rocks were nearby and running his hands through thick, soft fur.

He would usually stay overnight, and he always left by sunrise. Connor knew he should take him to a vet, or fix the hole in his fence that was allowing the dog to climb into his backyard in the first place, but he never had the heart to do it. Despite the creature’s size, Connor knew he was a friendly and intelligent being.

Maybe Connor was just projecting, but it felt like the dog understood him when he talked about anything and everything on his mind. Rambling about work, or his family life, or whatever he was hyperfocused on at the time.

It was therapeutic, in a way. In another way, it was hilarious; this dog was a better listener than some acquaintances that Connor could name.

(Specifically, one name, of a certain detective who thought it was hilarious to call Connor heartless because of a prosthetic he needed to live. Bastard.)

“ _He's_ the heartless one. My heart is made of plastic, I get it. That doesn't give him the right to joke around about it and call me a cyborg. ‘Oh, Hank does it all the time!’ yeah, first of all, no he doesn't. Second of all, he's my fucking _dad, Gavin._ He paid for the stupid thing, and at least he knew when the joke got more annoying than funny. Unlike _some_ people.” Connor continued to complain while absentmindedly playing with the dog’s damp fur.

The dog growled quietly, which Connor found almost amusing. He could practically _hear_ the dog saying ‘What an asshole.’

“I know, he's unbearable.”

Connor looked up into the dark clouds overhead. The weather forecast predicted on-and-off showers for the next few days, and tonight the rainfall was particularly heavy. When he came to the yard tonight, the dog had been taking shelter in the pile of tin Connor had once called a garage. It was too rusted out to call it anything other than a tetanus hazard by this point, though.

“I'm sorry. I've been whining for too long, haven't I?” Connor inquired, pulling his phone out to check the time. Wow. When did it cross midnight? He really needed to work on his sleep schedule. He stood up and stretched, his body aching from sitting on his porch for the past hour or so.

“I have to sleep, boy,” Connor sighed.

But as soon as the words left his mouth, a flash of lightning followed by the crash of thunder sounded in the distance. The dog jolted in shock and pressed his body as close to Connor as he could, emitting a string of loud whimpers.

“Scared of storms, huh?”

The dog whimpered again as it nudged against Connor’s leg, likely looking for comfort or shelter from the rain, and Connor couldn’t help but feel for the poor thing.

He knew it was probably a bad idea, but he didn’t care. He opened the back door and stepped aside, making room for the dog to walk through. “You wanna sleep inside tonight?”

The dog looked between him and the door a few times, almost as if he was trying to ask if it was really okay. When Connor simply smiled in response, the dog ‘boofed’ thankfully and trotted into Connor’s house, tracking mud through the back porch that Connor would have to remember to clean up when he got the chance.

“Wait for me, wait,” Connor called after him, closing the door and wiping his feet before following the dog. He was sniffing through Connor’s kitchen and living room, mud and rain dripping off him the longer he stood in one place.

“Here, boy!”

The dog rushed over to Connor and sat down obediently, wagging his tail and panting happily. Then he heard another thunder crash and yipped in shock. Connor crouched down to his level and stroked him soothingly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. The lightning can’t hurt you in here. Shh, it’s alright.”

The dog closed his eyes and whined quietly, allowing Connor to embrace him fully. Connor cringed slightly at the feeling of damp, muddy fur soaking his clothes, which gave him an idea.

“You want a bath, boy?”

The dog perked up slightly at the offer, wagging his tail just a little. It looked like he was interested, so Connor stood up and motioned for the canine to follow him to his bathroom. Without Connor needing to prompt him, the dog sat down next to the bathtub. Connor pet him on the head as a thank you and kneeled down to turn on the faucet.

When the bath was adequately filled, Connor directed the dog to jump in. An instruction it took just a bit too literally, as he caused water to spray onto Connor’s already damp clothes. He didn't mind, he’d need to wash his outfit later anyway, but the dog still looked apologetic about it, which just made Connor laugh.

“Is this better?” Connor chuckled, running his hand through the water and rubbing it into the dog’s fur, his hand coming away caked with mud.

The dog barked in reply and walked around in the tub for a little bit before he lied down on the bottom, his head floating just above the water. His eyes were wide and his nose was just barely above the water level, and his mouth was closed tightly in an effort to keep the water out. His tail kept wagging and stopping itself, like he was making an effort to stop any more water splashing out of the tub. He generally looked pretty goofy.

Connor grinned and continued to wash the mud out of the dog’s fur carefully, all the while murmuring praise and comforting words whenever more thunder crashed in the distance. Eventually, Connor couldn’t see any more mud coming off from his hands, so he decided his efforts to bathe the creature were good enough. He reached over to unplug the bath, and the dog hopped out of the tub when he saw where Connor’s arm was reaching. He shook himself dry, getting yet more water onto Connor’s clothes. When Connor looked over to him, the apologeticness was completely gone and replaced with an almost amused look.

“What are you giving me that little aside glance for?” Connor laughed. The dog simply tilted his head and huffed in a way that almost sounded like a laugh.

Connor shook his head in humored disbelief and grabbed a towel off of the towel rack and set about drying the dog’s fur. He still whined a little when he heard thunder, but the towel seemed to provide at least some distraction.

“There,” Connor said with finality, withdrawing the towel and smoothing down the fur, which was now poofy and made the dog look even more huge than he was. “Look at you! What a clean and handsome boy you are! You’ve got such soft fur, have I ever told you? I must have. And…here I am, basically talking to myself again,” he sighed.

The dog blinked at him a few times, before nudging his head against Connor’s chest. The movement startled Connor for a second, before he wrapped his arms around the creature, burying his face in his warm, silky coat.

“Good boy,” he whispered, before pulling back and standing up. “Okay, now to figure out where you’re sleeping. I’ve gotta have some spare blankets lying around somewhere…”

Connor wandered over to his bedroom, confident that the dog would follow, and opened the part of his closet he rarely used. With a little digging, he managed to retrieve a few blankets he used once or twice and then never again. He turned around and laid them down in the corner of the room.

“Here. They might be a little scratchy, but they’re better than the floor,” Connor said, patting the blankets as an invitation for the dog to lie down.

Silently, the dog padded across to the blankets, sniffing them briefly before he yawned and plopped himself down onto the old, slightly funky-smelling makeshift bed.

“Big mood, boy,” Connor mumbled just as a yawn escaped him as well. It had gotten really late; Connor checked his phone again and was entirely unsurprised when it told him it was 1:13 AM.

Connor kicked off his shoes and socks, then peeled off his damp shirt and tossed it in the direction of the laundry hamper, doing the same to his pants and boxers as soon as he emptied his pockets. He didn’t bother putting on anything to wear to bed, instead deciding just to climb under the blankets and hopefully not come out until apes had retaken the earth.

(But knowing his luck, he would probably have an early shift tomorrow. But still, a man could dream.)

He looked over to the other side of the room, where the dog was already starting to fall asleep, and smiled a little.

“Sleep well, boy.”

The sound of rain drumming against the roof mingling with the dog’s soft breathing eventually lulled Connor into a heavy slumber.

***

Connor was rudely awoken by a strange, persistent noise. Well, more like a sequence of noises. Wood sliding against wood, then some sort of muffled shuffling noise, then more wood sliding sounds. Connor blinked blearily a few times, trying to make sense of the noise when he'd only been awake for a few seconds.

“Ugh, come on,” he heard an unfamiliar voice groan.

Now _that_ was a huge alarm if Connor had ever heard one. He sat up bolt upright, hand already reaching for the lamp beside his bed in case the intruder was aggressive, when he froze in place at what he saw.

A naked man he’d never seen before was rooting through his closet. Connor’s eyes were frozen on the stranger’s face, and he noticed some alarmingly familiar features.

Those scars littering his chest.

The jagged, messy scar above his right eyebrow.

And those mismatched eyes. The right one blue, the left one green.

He knew he’d seen those eyes before.

Connor’s brain stopped in its tracks. He was stuck with his jaw dropped, his eyes wide with shock and confusion and, for once, completely unable to tear themselves away from the stranger's two-toned gaze.

Under his breath, the stranger murmured, “Oh no. Shit.”

This conversation was going to get very, _very_ weird.


	2. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor tries to talk to the stranger in his room.

“N-No way. No fucking way. Who the-- what the--? I-I th-- Um?!?”

Connor’s brain had jumpstarted, but his mouth hadn’t quite caught up. As a result he kept stuttering and stumbling over his words as he tried to address the stranger in his house.

(Only he knew he wasn’t exactly a stranger. He’d known this being for several months now. He just…hadn’t known as much as he thought he did.)

He took a deep breath and tried to reset his train of thought, and managed to blurt out, “ _Whothehellareyou?!_ ”

The stranger nodded in a weak, conceding manner. “Yeah, that’s about the reaction I expected.”

He sat back on his heels, bringing his hands down to cover his shame. He averted his eyes, looking like he was practically praying for the ground to swallow him up.

Now that Connor was getting over the initial panic, he analysed the stranger again. The slight tilt of his head allowed Connor to see that the outer shell of his ear had been damaged badly in the past; cream-colored scars stood out against the man’s copper skin, and chunks of it were long gone; it was like someone took a pair of blunt pruning shears to his ear, and Connor _immediately_ wished he could forget that simile.

The human in front of him had a very short buzz cut and light stubble covering his jaw, and Connor briefly wondered how hair that short translated into his ‘alternate’ form having such long, shaggy fur. A very faint smattering of hair covered his toned chest, yet more pale, jagged, painful looking scars over his heart and a few smaller but nonetheless severe injuries on his abs. The guy definitely had a runner’s build, and okay, now Connor was just staring. He cleared his throat and forced his eyes back up to the man’s forehead, trying to ignore the warmth in his cheeks.

“You…didn’t answer my question. Who are you? What’s your name?” he asked.

“I…Markus. My name is Markus,” he replied, looking up at Connor from under his eyelashes, clearly just as reluctant to meet his eyes, but for different reasons. “And you’re…Connor? Am I remembering that correctly?”

Connor nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

 _Markus. Markus._ The stranger’s name kept playing on a loop in his mind.

“And… _what_ are you?”

He didn’t have any doubt that the man -- Markus -- knew what he meant, especially when his eyes fell to the floor, defeated.

“Well, you’ve probably already guessed, haven’t you?” Markus retorted. “What do you think I am?”

“From where I’m sitting, you’re a naked man trying to steal my clothes.”

“You _know_ what I mean. What I am…like…what species. Because it sure isn’t human anymore…” Markus mumbled the last part of his sentence, folding in on himself just a little.

“I… Well, yeah, I mean I can certainly guess, but I can’t just come out immediately and snap my fingers while screaming ‘Werewolf! J’accuse!’ because that’d be fucking _weird._ "

Markus’ face scrunched in confusion as he stared at Connor for a second, like he was trying to picture that scenario. Then he snorted, lifting one hand to try and repress his laughter. Markus’ amused expression was only there for a moment, though, before falling away to distressed resignation.

“I… yeah. Your guess is…right.”

Connor swallowed hard again. He felt his heart beat a little bit faster.

This man was a werewolf. Connor had met a werewolf. _Actual, real life werewolves existed on this planet._ It was a lot to process in a short time. He felt his face twist up anxiously as he thought through it all.

“Uh… God, so how much do you remember in your, uh, wolf form? Like is it a case where your human mind and wolf mind are separate entities or are you just a guy in a wolf’s body or what? What are the logistics here? Ugh, I’ve fed you expired food. I’ve fed you pizza crusts. I’ve basically fed you trash! Did that make you sick? I’m so sorry if I accidentally made you sick or anyth-- God! I-I’ve given you _belly rubs,_ what the _fuck!_ ” Connor rambled, words flying out of his mouth at such high speed that he was getting tongue-tied.

“I mean…if it makes you feel any better, the belly rubs were great.”

“I-It-It doesn’t, really! Shit, I’ve ven-vented to you about so much personal stuff!”

“Okay, wrong thing to bring up, I’m sorry! Hey, hey, hey!” Markus exclaimed, hastily trying to calm Connor down. He shuffled over to the foot of Connor’s bed and awkwardly patted his knees through the blanket to try and soothe him.

“It’s fine, it’s-- you didn’t know. Don’t blame yourself for anything. I promise, the trash didn’t make me too sick. People feed dogs leftovers all the time, it’s no big deal. Calm down.”

“No big--? Jesus, I’ve seen your _dick,_ how is _that_ not weird?!”

“That’s-- okay yeah, that’s weird, but it’s-- Whatever! Take a breath! Seriously, you look like you’re about to pass out!”

Connor only realised he was hyperventilating when Markus pointed it out. He tried his best to take a few deep breaths before he spewed out any more nonsense.

“Yeah, good, that’s good, just take a breath, step back, and think rationally,” Markus encouraged. Connor just burst out laughing, except it sounded more like a wheeze since he’d been trying to breathe out and had barely any air left in his lungs.

“You’re a fucking werewolf, there’s nothing _rational_ about this.”

This entire situation was a mess. Connor had put up with more shit in his life than he could list, and this is what would finally break his brain. This was it. This was how he'd die. Face-to-face with a naked supernatural being who he'd been treating like a pet for months now, while he acted like a naked, half-awake, blithering idiot trying to make some goddamn _sense_ out of any of it.

Just _focus,_ Connor.

He took a few more seconds to concentrate on breathing, before he took one last deep breath, held it, and released it as a sigh.

“Okay, okay…I'm good. So, Markus…” he started, Markus’ name rolling off his tongue experimentally. “Let’s start out with _why,_ exactly, were you trying to steal my clothes?”

“Oh, that,” Markus remembered, looking at the closet he’d been raiding just before. “I mean, I can’t just stroll out of your house buck naked. I was trying to find clothes it didn’t look like you wore too often…stuff you wouldn’t care if you lost, you know? But then you woke up, so…yeah.”

“And you don’t have, like, a change of clothes or anything already set up?”

“I did, but I wouldn’t have gotten to them before sunrise. And I didn’t want to leave during the night, because…”

“…The storm?” Connor guessed.

Markus nodded, staring back down at the ground. Connor was tempted to ask about his apparent fear of storms, but there was a bigger question on his mind.

“And why did you come here in the first place? Do you not have anywhere else to go? Are you okay?”

“What? No, no! I’m not like, homeless or anything. I just…uh, I live with my godfather, and he doesn’t know about my…’condition’…and I’d prefer to keep it that way. As far as he knows, once a month I go to a friend’s house to hang out. Which, I guess if you look at it a certain way, isn’t exactly lying? A-At least, I don't think…?” he trailed off.

Connor thought over that statement. Were they technically friends, even if Connor didn’t know about Markus’ condition until just now? He looked forward to seeing him, and they did hang out every month. But Connor knew there were many more complex factors that he didn’t have the capacity to process this early.

“I’m…sorry. For not communicating it to you. I understand if you don’t want me to come here anymore,” Markus said, his eyes downcast as if afraid of Connor’s reaction.

“Do you have anywhere else to go if I say no?”

“Probably? I know a few others like me, and they're helping me through this whole thing. I could probably just hang out with them when the time comes. I don't--”

“There are more of you?” Connor blurted, subconsciously moving further up the bed and giving Markus a wary look.

Markus stopped mid-sentence, his eyes wide. “I mean… _shit!_ There aren't many of us, I swear. We're not dangerous, I promise we’re safe to be around. Please don’t tell anyone, they’ll start killing us, I… I shouldn't have said anything, I should've just left, I-I'm sorry,” Markus rambled, backing away slightly as he spoke.

“No, hey, calm down!” Connor interrupted, waving his hands in front of him to try and get Markus to calm down. “Who said anything about telling? Listen, I won’t say a word to anyone about it, okay? Your secret is safe with me, I give you my word."

Markus scanned his face, like he was trying to spot a tell, or any sign Connor was lying.

“If I decide to trust you, how can I be sure you’ll _keep_ your word?”

“Because I know you’re telling the truth. You’ve never been aggressive or dangerous towards me, and I don’t think you want to be. So I won’t give you a reason.”

Markus thought heavily for a moment longer. Upon deciding Connor was being sincere, he let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“Thank you.”

Connor nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “And, I mean…if you still want to, I won't stop you from coming here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I don't know what it's like out everywhere else, but this place is safe. I won't rob you of that. Plus, it's nice just to have another living being around, if only once a month. Living on your own gets lonely after a while.”

“...No more belly rubs though, I'm guessing?” Markus teased, earning a chuckle from Connor.

“Yeah, no. That’d be a little too weird for me in light of…” Connor looked Markus up and down, “…new information.”

“Dammit,” Markus said in mock disappointment. Connor snickered again before he realised Markus would probably appreciate some clothes.

“Uh, so, you'd probably appreciate some clothes, wouldn't you?”

“Ah…yeah. If you have anything you can spare. I can wash them when I get home and then bring them back?” Markus offered.

“Okay.”

Connor grabbed a random pair of sweatpants off of the floor and wriggled them on, then walked over to his closet and opened the bottom drawer, which he filled with clothes he couldn't wear, but couldn't part with for whatever reason.

He pulled out a random black shirt and a pair of jeans that were permanently stained with paint and tossed them in Markus’ direction, making an effort not to turn around, lest he get an eyeful of the naked near-stranger standing in his bedroom.

(Okay, that sounded even more awkward than it did with context, and considering the context, that was saying a _lot._ )

He heard Markus fumble with the clothes given to him before he muttered a ‘thank you’ and unbunched the clothes offered to him. There was a beat of silence before Markus decided to speak up.

“‘Knights of the Black Death’?” he read, and Connor knew exactly which shirt he was holding.

“Yeah, I got that shirt from a concert,” Connor replied. “But you feel the weird texture, right? It feels like a rash guard, it’s got that same weird spandex-y, polyester-y material. That texture felt awful to me, I just couldn't handle wearing it, so I don't. It’s still a cool piece of merchandise, though.”

“Oh right, you have autism, don’t you?”

“…Yeah,” Connor sighed. “Go ahead and ask if you want to.”

“Huh?”

“Everyone always asks what it’s like to be autistic, you might as well get it out of the way.”

“I wasn’t going to ask. It sounds like you resent talking about it, so I won’t push you if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, thank _god._ It’s hard enough living with half my brain tied behind my back without people asking what it’s like every time it comes up in conversation.”

“Half your _brain_ tied behind your back?”

“I know what I said.”

This time, Markus didn’t suppress his laughter, and Connor felt his face redden again. It was the first time he'd heard him laugh, much less _speak,_ and yet the thought that Markus' voice was pretty flew through his mind and wouldn't leave.

He probably shouldn’t be thinking that Markus -- the guy he thought was just a dog until, like, ten minutes ago -- was attractive, but he was. His voice was pleasing to listen to, he was attractive and muscular, and as much as Connor was trying to be a gentleman about it, he couldn’t deny that it was tempting to turn around too early just to ogle at him.

There were… _far_ more alarming connotations to that than Connor could hope to list.

A minute passed in silence as Markus got dressed in the clothes Connor had loaned him. The sound of fabric shuffling was all Connor could hear, and he kept his eyes firmly focused on the corner of the room out of courtesy.

“I’m dressed,” Markus announced, informing Connor that he could safely turn around. He did so, taking in the sight of Markus wearing his clothes. He was surprised to see that they seemed to fit him pretty well, even if the jeans were clearly made for someone with a smaller waist. And he was still barefoot, too.

“Do you need shoes?”

“Actually, could I borrow your phone for a second, please? I can probably convince one of my friends to pick me up, as long as they'll answer from an unknown number. I won’t have to steal any more of your clothes that way.”

“Um… Sure. Go ahead,” Connor affirmed, swiping his phone from the bedside table where he'd put it the night before and offering it to Markus. He took it graciously, thanking Connor again, and typed in a number, standing in the corner of the room by the door.

“Hey, Josh? It's Markus. …Holy shit. Sorry. Well, I’m alright, so you can stop worrying about me. …Yeah, things just got a little bit complicated last night. …Don't panic, I just ended up crashing at someone's house overnight. …He’s cool, he's been really nice and helpful. …Uh…yeah, he does. I'm sorry. But he's promised to keep it a secret. …Yeah, I know. …I know.”

Markus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I didn't want him to find out, it just happened, alright? …I _know_ North has issues with it, I didn't reveal myself just to spite her. …Just…just tell her I'm sorry, please? …Thank you. Hey, where are you guys right now? …Damn, already? Can you get something for me, too, while you're there? I'm fucking _starving._ …Thanks. Anyway, I'm still at his place. That's why I called. Can you pick me up when you’re done eating? …Uh, I think it’s…336 Barkly Street?”

“326,” Connor corrected, at the exact moment he realised he probably shouldn’t be listening in on this conversation. Though Markus just nodded, either not noticing or just not caring.

“Nevermind, it’s 326. …Okay. …That’s fine, I can wait. …Thanks. …See you.”

Markus hung up and passed the phone back to Connor.

“They’ll be here in about twenty minutes. Thanks for your help, Connor.”

“Don’t mention it. If you want to wait inside, feel free.”

“Oh, no thank you. I’ve already overstayed my welcome, I don’t want to intrude more than I have already.”

Markus left the room, and Connor subconsciously found himself following him out into the hall. Markus reached out to the front door and, just before turning the handle, turned back to Connor once again.

“Thanks again for all your help.”

“You're welcome. Until next time, Markus.”

“Until next time.”

And with a final nod, Markus opened the door and left Connor’s house, with Connor having a lot to think over.

Processing everything over a cup of coffee sounded great right about now, which is how Connor ended up sitting in his living room nursing a coffee and a bowl of sugary cereal.

Five months ago, he'd met an oversized dog. Today, he learned that that dog was, in actuality, a werewolf named Markus the entire time.

(Markus’ human form also just so happened to be so hot that he singlehandedly reminded Connor just how bi he was.)

Connor would be lying if he said he didn’t feel drawn to Markus, but he couldn't tell if it was a platonic attraction or more than that. On one hand, the fact that he found Markus extremely pleasing to look at despite only just learning he wasn't an animal was not only pretty weird, it was also pretty gay. On the other hand, it wouldn't be the first time Connor got heart eyes for someone just because they were pretty and nice to him for five minutes.

He should’ve asked for his number. Would that have been too forward? Only if his intentions were romantic, probably - asking for a friend’s number is normal, isn’t it? More normal than letting someone borrow your clothes, anyway.

God, Connor let him wear his clothes. Why did that thought make Connor feel so weird? It wasn’t like it mattered, he barely ever wore those clothes, anyway, but Connor caught himself feeling some conflicting emotions.

Maybe because he didn’t actually know much about Markus yet? Markus had said (well, implied) that he considered Connor a friend, but he wasn’t sure if he could say they were with a straight face.

The way animals interacted with him and the way other people interacted with him differed too significantly. Humans expected him to be pleasant, make eye contact, stop fidgeting, be _normal._ As if normal was a defined thing that Connor should just know how to be.

(He scoffed around a mouthful of cereal. Everyone else on the planet seemed to know what normal was except for himself.)

Animals, by contrast, were much more comfortable to be around. They were too preoccupied with sleeping, eating, and receiving affection to judge people. They didn’t care that Connor struggled with eye contact, or that he would have an anxiety attack if he didn’t have a quarter on him at all times. It was easier for Connor to connect with animals than with other people.

But Markus _was_ a person. That whole time, he was another person who was capable of judging him, and thinking rationally, and Connor just couldn’t get his head around it. He’d perceived Markus as one thing, something he had more understanding of, when in all actuality he was clueless.

He had no way of knowing what Markus thought about him for certain, but he would have stopped coming back if he didn’t like Connor at least a little, right?

The weirdest part of it was that Connor still felt connected to the other man. He wanted to get to know him better. He wanted to be his friend, and that was almost a scary thought. He didn’t have much experience with having friends that didn’t have four legs. Hell, his best human friend was his dad.

There was one thing Connor was certain about, though: he wanted to see Markus again. Even though it was scary, and new, and a little weird. He wanted to get to know the human side of those mismatched eyes. Maybe as a friend, maybe more. He wasn't sure. It didn't matter, for now.

He just hoped that Markus would trust him enough to let him in.

Connor was out of coffee.


	3. Back to Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has an eventful day at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this chapter seems a little short or unfocused!! its mostly just focusing on connor n his work environment and setting some stuff up for the next chapter but i hope some of yall enjoy it anyway ;u;

The next couple of weeks were…weird.

First of all, the elephant (well, wolf?) in the room. Aside from seeing him around town once or twice, but being too busy to go and say hi, Connor hadn’t seen or heard from Markus since that morning. Yet, he kept drifting across Connor’s mind. That morning, that conversation. He could still barely believe it. If it weren’t for the fact that the clothes he’d loaned were still missing, he’d think it was some bizarre fever dream.

He’d learned a lot in about fifteen minutes of conversation, and he’d promised to hold his tongue about it, which was getting surprisingly difficult. Come on, _you_ try keeping a lid on the existence of an entire human-like species of supernatural creatures who might be able to potentially butcher people, given sufficient motivation.

Connor wasn’t going to lie; he almost let it slip a few times. Whenever he found himself thinking about it during work, or whenever he heard whispers around the department about homicides or missing person reports, he almost wanted to tell people. Just in case it were somehow a lead. But not only would that be betraying the trust that Markus had placed in him, no one would believe him anyway.

Not until he ended up as another missing person, anyway. But even then, probably not. It would just sound too crazy to be true.

But Connor knew. Connor knew, and the more he thought about it, the more questions ate at him. He’d found himself wanting to look up different versions of werewolf mythos every once in a while, but he never really had time. Not between work, or trying to stay up to date on bills, or trying to keep himself fed with whatever pocket change he had left over.

If all that wasn’t enough, work itself was starting to get tedious, and considering how Connor frequently stayed up late working on reports while watching Netflix, that was saying something. He hadn’t done any field work in what felt like ages, which would have been fine, but even Connor could get fed up with paperwork. He was at his most functional when he could look at the evidence himself, piece together what happened based on all the little minute clues that the others would often miss. In everyone else’s reports, only the most obvious, basic details were actually documented for him to parse through.

Not helping matters at all was the fact that Connor’s screen was too bright, even at the lowest light setting, making his eyes hurt unless he was squinting at it. He was sure it’d ruin his vision sooner or later. And the sounds of phones ringing and people talking and walking around was annoying and distracting. But that was just Connor’s hypersensitivity acting up like it usually did.

Connor bit his tongue, reached for his phone, and tapped on the Music app. He searched for his playlist of instrumental tracks as he fished his headphones out of his desk drawer with his other hand.

“You okay?” his father, Hank, asked from the adjacent desk, having noticed the movement from Connor’s desk.

He nodded and hummed affirmatively. “I just can’t concentrate when there’s so much background stuff. I know it’s not even that loud, it’s just…busy.”

“You got your coin?”

Connor smiled. Hank knew all his tics and habits almost better than he did, sometimes. Instead of responding verbally, he fished his quarter out of his breast pocket and rolled it across his knuckles once, then flipped it so he could catch it in his palm.

“I’ll never figure out how the hell you learned to do that so smoothly,” Hank said, shaking his head minutely and redirecting his eyes to his computer screen. He was hunched over, close to the screen, squinting his eyes as well. A part of Connor wanted to warn him about hurting himself, but he knew better than to try by this point.

“Hard work and determination,” Connor beamed, stuffing the coin back into his pocket.

“Yeah, well, try applying some of that hard work and determination to doin’ your job, hey?”

Connor nodded and put his headphones on, set his phone aside, and decided to at least try and focus on their active case.

Not that there was much to report on this one, though. A house had been broken into, and several items of sentimental value were reported missing, as well as a large amount of money. There was one rather special detail about this one, however; the perp, a high school student, had to empty her backpack to make room for the stolen possessions. She’d left several copies of her own resumé -- complete with her full name and contact details -- in the victim’s house.

Way to go, Einstein. (Ironically, the suspect’s surname actually _was_ Einstein.)

She was caught a few hours later and confessed to everything, rightfully feeling humiliated. It was just a matter of finishing up the report and sending it to the Captain, then he could take a stab at some other reports that were giving him trouble.

If he could just. Pay. Attention…

Suddenly, Connor saw Hank jump and look up at the entrance to the bullpen. He turned around to see Chris and (ugh) Gavin escorting a woman through the gate and in the direction of the holding cells, her arms held behind her back. The woman’s mouth was moving, and Connor slid his headphones off of one ear to listen in.

“Ow! I said ease up, goddammit!” the woman snapped, shaking her braid out of her face so she could glare daggers at Gavin. Her eyes were nowhere near Connor, but he still felt intimidated by the fire behind them.

“Oh, sorry, am I hurting you? Maybe I’d feel a little less pissed off if you hadn’t bit my fucking hand like a rabid lunatic, you ever think about that?” Gavin retorted, meeting her eyes with just as much fury.

“Gavin, will it seriously kill you to loosen your grip? You look like you’re trying to rip her arm off,” Chris interjected as he put a hand on Gavin’s shoulder to get his point across.

Gavin looked between him and the perp, before reluctantly letting go of her arms. She didn’t move them, leading Connor to believe she was handcuffed. Gavin nudged her forward with a scowl on his face.

“Come on, move it.”

The woman’s eyes were still digging into Gavin’s soul, but she complied, shuffling behind Chris as he led her to the holding cells. Connor’s eyes tracked their movements as they walked past. The woman’s eyes locked with his, and for a second, he swore his entire body froze under her glare. If looks could kill…

But it only lasted for a second before she was out of sight. Connor exchanged glances with his father, who was smiling.

“What’s funny?” Connor asked.

“Did Gavin say that girl _bit_ him?”

“It…sure sounded like it.”

“Holy shit,” he chuckled. “I mean, I know it’s my duty to protect and serve, but shit, I kinda wanna give her props for managing to chomp the biggest asshole on the force.”

“Speaking as your partner, I want to tell you that that sort of attitude is unprofessional. But speaking as your son? If she didn’t look like she’d tear me limb from limb before I got the chance, I’d thank her.”

Hank just laughed again, and kept laughing until he saw Gavin storming back through the precinct.

“Hey, Gavin! The hell'd she do this time?” Hank asked from across the room, his tone still full of mirth.

Gavin’s head shot up to glare at them. “I’ll fucking tell you what she did!” he snarled, stomping over to Hank’s desk.

“We caught her slashing someone’s tires,” Chris explained before Gavin could continue speaking. “She took off when we spotted her, then she bit Gavin when he caught up to her. Then he handcuffed her,” he recalled.

“She assaulted a police officer, Chris!” Gavin reasoned, lifting his right hand up to show off the injury for emphasis. The flesh between his thumb and index finger was marred with fading teeth marks. Hank leaned closer to inspect the injury and gave Gavin an incredulous look.

“That’s barely a nip, you baby.”

“Shut the hell up! It hurt, alright?”

“Detective Reed, it’s really not a significant enough injury to warrant such a reaction--” Connor attempted to chime in, but Gavin whipped around to sneer at him.

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion, _rookie._ ”

Connor quirked an eyebrow and cocked his head slightly. “I’ve worked here for ten months, Reed. We’re well past the point of calling me ‘rookie’.”

“I’ve worked here for years, asshole. I can call you whatever I want. Not like it matters, you’re gonna get shitty at me no matter what.”

“Connor. Detective Anderson. Mr. Anderson. I’ll answer to any of my _official_ titles. You could just pick a name and stick to it, and you know it. Instead, you make life difficult for both of us by insulting me. Why?”

“Oh, here we go again. Stop tryin' to get in my fuckin’ head, you son of a bitch,” he spat, leaning into Connor. Despite the discomfort of having his personal space invaded, Connor managed to barely even recoil and hold his own.

“You’re gritting your teeth. It makes you sound like you’re sneezing when you say ‘fuck’. You have a tendency to do that when you know you’re being talked into a corner. Tell me, is there any reason in particular that you despise me? I’m not sure what I did to anger you, so I’m genuinely curious. Unless, of course, you happen to enjoy making other people uncomfortable?”

“I’m really hating your attitude right now, kid.”

“I’m twenty-five.”

“That’s still an eleven year age gap, dipshit!”

“Amazing how I’m that many years younger than you, yet _you_ act more childish than I do.”

“At least I don’t act like a heartless prick all the time!”

 _That_ struck a nerve, which made Connor tense his shoulders inadvertently. He knew what Gavin was insinuating. That choice of words was no accident. He knew what awaited him if they continued down this road.

“Don’t you _dare_ say that to me,” Connor snipped, his voice now carrying a dangerous edge to it. He recognised this voice of his, the one he used for particularly difficult suspects. And people who got on his last fucking nerve.

Gavin just smirked, seemingly amused with himself that he’d managed to make even a small dent in Connor’s professional and indifferent persona. Connor’s hands balled into fists, he felt his fight-or-flight response acting up, but then--

“That’s _enough,_ ” Hank interjected, reaching over to squeeze Connor’s shoulder while shooting Gavin a warning look. “We’re due for our lunch break, so if you’ll excuse us, we’re leaving to take it now.”

Hank was doing the right thing, Connor knew it. He hated admitting defeat, but he knew there was no point in trying to psychoanalyse Gavin. He’d tried it before, on several occasions, and it just never ended well. And yet, he often struggled with knowing when to quit. He was so hellbent on getting to an answer, a conclusion, that he could easily put himself at risk in doing so. It could (and frequently did) endanger him if he didn’t keep it in check.

Fortunately, his dad knew when to rein him in when he couldn’t do it himself.

“That’s correct. We’ll be excusing ourselves now,” Connor agreed, though he still felt the edge in his voice.

He put his phone in his pocket and stood up, Hank following suit. He shouldered past Gavin on his way out of the bullpen, only barely remembering to murmur a half-hearted apology as he moved on autopilot.

“Connor, hey,” Hank called once he caught up. “Are you--”

“I’m fine, Lieutenant. I just need to get away for a minute.”

He felt Hank’s hand coil around his upper arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“Bottling it all up is just gonna make it harder on you, son.”

Connor sighed, turning to face his father. “Just…I want to know _why._ Why does he think I’m just going to take any of that lying down? I’m not some emotionless robot who he can just do whatever he wants to. Am I?”

“Oh, no, Con. You're more than what one douchebag says you are, okay? He just thinks you're a threat. You’re the most competent detective we’ve had in the force for a long time. You’re attentive, you make sure to pick up every last detail if you think it’s relevant to the case, and normally? You’re completely right. And Gavin hates you for it.”

Hank looked behind them, like he was checking if anyone was within earshot, before he leaned into Connor.

“As much of an ass as he is, he’s actually pretty good at his job. And fuck if he didn't make sure everyone in the precinct knew it. Arrogant prick,” he scoffed. “But then you came along. A younger, faster, smarter cop who does his job more effectively than he does. I think it’s making him realise that the only reason people put up with his shit before was because he was the most reliable guy in the DPD.”

“…I think I get it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Connor echoed. “But I still don’t know why he thinks that gives him the right to use my more…’unique’ qualities against me.”

“That…well, some people are just assholes.”

That drew a chuckle from Connor. His dad was always humorously blunt at the best of times. Hank smiled at him and patted his shoulder reassuringly.

“So, how about we leave Gavin to sulk about that piss-weak bite he's got, while we go hit up the Chicken Feed? Unless you're feeling something else for lunch?”

“Chicken Feed is good, yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

Hank smiled at him again and continued walking, Connor trailing behind him as they left the precinct to get some air (and horrendously fattening fast food) into their systems.

And just for a while, Connor could almost forget about it all. Work, bills, bad coworkers…and the crushing secret he harboured.


	4. Irrational Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus gets caught up in the business of one of his packmates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one took so long!! im trying my best to get stuff out on a regular basis but im not 100% sure how to string the next bits of story together so its a little Fucky

God. And Simon said he was worried about _Markus_ getting into trouble.

Did lycanthropy change him? Yes. Has it been scary and confusing? Extremely. Has it driven him to perhaps act more instinctually and aggressively? Absolutely!

Was Markus currently in police custody? _No._ But apparently, North had a track record for this sort of thing. That’s what he gleaned, anyway, from Simon’s text asking him to come bail her out. Everyone else was too busy to do it themselves, apparently. Everyone. God knew what the rest of the pack was doing that was so important that they had to get the guy who'd known North for the shortest time to go help her.

So Markus had to spend twenty minutes getting to the DPD, ten minutes convincing the cops that he was North’s friend, and then another ten minutes filling out paperwork, and now _another ten minutes_ waiting for her to sort herself out and get her stuff back. He was, as you might expect, a little pissed off about the whole thing.

He sighed, pulled his phone out, and started idly scrolling through his phone to kill time. On muscle memory, he opened his messages to check for any messages from Carl. No updates, unsurprisingly. He had been painting when he got the message to leave, and Carl was hard to distract when he was working. He probably wouldn't pick up his phone until he was close to finished.

He'd insisted that he would be fine with Markus being gone for a few hours, but there was a tiny paranoid part of him that kept thinking about worst case scenarios. Markus knew it was stupid, it wasn't like Carl was completely defenseless, but the idea of coming home to find him injured or worse…

Well, he couldn’t exactly be too hard on himself. He’d been dealt a rough lot in life, and Carl knew it. They’d talked through it all when Markus was legally put under Carl’s care, but he wasn’t getting any younger or healthier, and they both knew it. It was reasonable for Markus to be worried. Just…not _this_ worried.

And not this pissed off that he had to go help a friend instead of looking after his godfather. He didn’t even know the details of what North was in for. All he’d been told was that she was charged with ‘malicious destruction of property, assault, and resisting arrest.’

Which, if Markus was honest, did sound like a pretty North thing to do. She was the kind of woman who would’ve (and _has_ ) fought a hornet’s nest if she wanted to, for crying out loud.

“Mark? Hello? Paging planet Markus!”

Speak of the devil. Markus was shaken out of his thoughts by said friend waving a hand in front of his face, standing over him. North’s messenger bag was slung over her shoulder, braided hair caught beneath the strap. She was ready to leave.

“Officially back on ‘Mark’ terms, are we?” Markus noted as he put his phone back in his pocket and stood up.

“Yeah, yeah, don't read into it. Can we go yet?”

“Of course. No, I’m totally down to stay here and have another friendly conversation with the cops. Maybe I'll stick around and ask if they're hiring.”

North chuckled a little at the heavy sarcasm in Markus’ voice as she headed towards the doors of the police department. They opened automatically upon detecting her presence, allowing her to stride out of the building and into the street. Markus followed her lead, rushing to catch up to her as they walked down the street together.

There was an awkward beat of silence, which Markus broke after a couple of seconds.

“So…what did you even do?”

North sighed, but Markus could see the beginnings of a smile on her face. “So, you remember Hex?”

“Josh's shitty ex?" God, it’d been months since Josh broke up with her and he still couldn’t so much as think about her without cringing.

North nodded. “Bingo. I saw her getting out of her car, and then she saw me, and she just gave me this look, you know? Like, nothing short of disdain. And I just remembered all that shit she said to Josh, like, controlling when he could see us, telling him he was nothing without her and threatening to break up with him if he didn’t basically act like her fucking lapdog. Ugh, and then all that shit with her sleeping with one of their students? It was such a fucked up situation, and I should’ve stepped in sooner, and I _didn’t…_ ”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. We all should’ve done more.”

“Not my point, but thanks. Anyway, she fucked off to do her own thing, and I was still so fucking angry with her. Myself too, but mainly just her for being so fucking vile. So her tires are right there, and my pocket knife is brand new and needs to get broken in, so…”

“North… I mean, ‘there are better ways to help your friends than violence’ is what I _want_ to say…”

“Exactly! Like hell was I gonna just let her get away with all of it! But, funnily enough, the cops didn't see it that way. They started screaming at me to get away from the car and put my hands up and drop the knife and _waaah_. Whatever, they’re yelling, I’m panicking, so my immediate instinct is to just book it. Assholes chase me for like, three blocks. Then one of them grabs me from behind and puts a hand on my face…”

“Oh, shit,” Markus winced in sympathy. He'd known North long enough to know she didn't like being approached from behind, and _hated_ people touching her face. He could understand that however the story ended wasn't pleasant.

“Yeah.” North nodded up at Markus, equally understanding of the situation she’d found herself in. “So that's how I got arrested for slashing three tires and biting a cop.” She concluded her story with a quiet chuckle at just how bizarre that sentence sounded.

Markus was…slightly less entertained.

“You bit him?! North!”

“Not hard enough to draw blood, obviously! We've got enough assholes running around, you honestly think I'd do that?”

“Are you sure? What if you drew blood without realising? The moon is waxing right now, you're probably getting stronger without--”

“ _Shhhhh!_ ” North warned, looking around nervously to make sure no one was listening before lowering her voice to a whisper.

“Look, I didn't taste anything come out. He’s not gonna turn. Come on, I’ve been a werewolf for longer than half my life, I'm pretty sure I know my own strength better than you do, _pup._ ”

She nudged Markus gently to emphasise. He cringed and felt his ears burn with embarrassment at the term.

“Ugh, don't call me that, it's weird.”

“How is it weird?”

“You’re calling me, a grown-ass, human man, shit like ‘pup’ and ‘wolf cub’ like it’s no big deal. I get it’s normal for you, Lucy, and the twins, but you’ve gotta remember I’m really new to…this whole deal. I’m just not comfortable with the literal pet names you’re giving me. It makes us sound like kinksters.”

“Dude!” North hissed, lightly smacking Markus in the chest.

“I’m just saying! There wasn’t a better way to phrase it, sorry!”

“First of all, thanks for ruining our pack's rank terms forever. Second of all-- _oof!_ "

As they approached the street corner, a fellow pedestrian crashed into North. There was enough force behind the impact to not only make North stumble, but to make her crash into Markus hard enough to just barely avoid getting knocked onto his ass. North balanced herself out and turned to glare at the person who rushed them.

“Watch where you’re fucking going, idiot!”

“Sorry! Sorry, I was checking my phone…”

Wait. That voice was familiar. Markus righted himself and whirled around to look at the person they’d (literally) run into.

Sure enough, it was the human he’d been fleeing to every month for a while now. Connor stood there gormlessly, holding his phone in one hand and a soda cup in the other. The lid had popped off in the collision, but it appeared to be mostly empty already. He wore a black leather jacket over a white button-up and a dark grey undershirt, with his police badge displayed prominently on his belt. He stood next to an older man with long grey hair, a thick beard, and a black coat, who appeared just as startled as everyone else.

Still in shock, Connor could only cock his head and blurt out, “Markus?”

Markus simply nodded, still a little dumbstruck. He shook his head to reset his thought process and cleared his throat slightly.

“Hey,” he tried to greet, but his voice cracked weirdly as he uttered his acquaintance’s (friend’s?) name. He cleared his throat again and tried to sound less like a prepubescent teenager. “Hey, Connor.”

“Wait, weren’t you just arrested?” Connor’s companion asked, pointing at North. Markus’ eyes widened and he frantically put a hand on North’s shoulder.

“She’s free. I paid her bail. Everything’s fine.”

North side-eyed Markus with a scowl, but Connor’s companion simply chuckled. “Alright, sure. So, how do you know this guy, Connor?”

“Er…”

Connor looked at Markus with pleading eyes. They both knew that they couldn’t tell the truth without sounding crazy and/or letting another human know about werewolves. At least Connor’s hesitation showed Markus that he was serious about keeping the secret.

Still, now they had to come up with an excuse.

“Uh… My dog broke into his backyard one time.” He hoped he wouldn’t need to elaborate further.

Fortunately, the old man appeared to understand, nodding in realisation. “Ah, right. I think you told me about that, actually,” he recalled, turning back to Connor.

“Did I? …I guess I did.” Connor almost looked guilty, and if they were alone, Markus would want to tell him there was no reason to be.

But they weren’t, and there was, if the way North’s eyes widened was any indication.

Markus glanced at her apologetically before asking the old man, “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lieutenant Hank Anderson. And this is my partner, Detective Anderson,” he replied, gesturing to Connor. “Though, you know him as Connor already. What about you? What's yout name?”

“Markus Manfred. This is my friend, North. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant,” Markus smiled, even if he had to clench his teeth when he felt North’s fingers curl around his forearm.

“Well, I’m sure it was great for you two to catch up, but we have business to attend to,” North said, giving Markus a pointed look and tightening her grip until her nails were starting to dig into his flesh.

Connor’s face lit up in realisation of something. “Uh, hang on! Uh, before you go, Markus…”

He trailed off momentarily, fumbling with his phone for a moment.

“Do you want to exchange contact details? …You know, just in case your…dog gets out again?”

“Sure,” Markus said before North’s grip on him had a chance to get any tighter. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and gave it to Connor, taking Connor’s phone in turn. He put in his phone number, then decided to put in some of his social media accounts for good measure.

Once he was done, he offered the phone back to Connor, who took it back once he finished typing in his own information. Markus took his phone back and read the information Connor had put down. His phone number, as well as a few of his own rather unusual usernames on social media.

“What’s up with those usernames?” Markus asked, trying to mask the fond humor in his voice. Unsuccessfully, though, if the way Connor’s cheeks flushed slightly was to be believed.

“I…I was just really into music and cyberpunk and everything when I made those accounts,” he explained. His tone had shifted from certain and professional to something that sounded almost bashful.

Lieutenant Anderson looked at Markus, then at Connor with a knowing grin. Markus felt his own mouth stretch into an amused smirk, but North pulled on his arm insistently, so he knew it was time to depart.

“Good to see you again, Connor. Until next time?”

Connor nodded. “Until next time.”

Markus had just enough time to nod back before North was pulling him away. “See you,” she murmured as she walked off with Markus trying to keep up.

When they were well past Connor and the Lieutenant, Markus freed his arm from North’s vice grip and frowned at her. “North? North, talk to me. What happened back there?”

“He was a cop?” North hissed. “You told a cop about werewolves?!”

“Ugh, North, we’ve talked about this. I didn’t want him to find out, I’m sorry he did, but we can trust him.”

“You gave him your number. He could kill you. He’s got a gun, Markus. It takes one bit of silver, _one_ tiny little lump of silver against an open wound, and then you’re dead! What if he told his dad you’re a werewolf?!”

“He’s not like that! Besides, he doesn’t know about you. He doesn’t know about the others. I’m the only one at risk here, North. And I plan on it staying that way. I trust that he isn’t dangerou--”

North cut him off with a mirthless, disbelieving laugh. “Trust? He barely knows you. What about him is trustworthy, exactly? Please enlighten me, Markus, I’m _dying_ to know.”

That made Markus hesitate for a second. It was true; Connor knew much less about him than he did about Connor. They’d known each other for five or six months now, but the relationship one had with pets and animals differed immensely from those with other humanoids. Connor seemed much more closed off and, for lack of a better term, robotic with other people. It was a shocking contrast to how open and joyful he sounded when they met in the backyard every month, when Connor thought he was just a weirdly gigantic dog.

They couldn’t go back to that. The realisation struck Markus surprisingly hard; even if their friendship recovered, their dynamic was going to be significantly different now. Less one-sided, probably. Less of Connor rambling mostly to himself and more…something else. Something different.

He…really wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

But North was still waiting for an answer, so Markus just grit his teeth and replied, “Look, I’m not going to try and justify myself. I can have human friends, can’t I?”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t have human friends, I said you need to think more carefully about who you tell about your condition! I just…” North raked a hand through her hair and growled in frustration. The sound came out sounding far too animalistic, and Markus was starting to regret starting this conversation at all. If she shifted in public…

Fortunately, North managed to catch herself before Markus could say anything. “I… I care about you, alright? I don’t want you getting yourself killed because you decided to place your trust in the wrong people.”

Markus just nodded. He wasn’t really sure what else he could do. North lingered uncertainly for a moment, before she turned on her heel and wandered off, presumably to find her own way home.

(She always sucked at goodbyes.)

Truth be told, Markus wasn’t sure where he even was anymore. He wasn’t too familiar with this neighbourhood. He pulled out his phone with the intention of checking the GPS app when something else caught his eye.

_**1 New Message (3 m ago):** (313) 248 3172: is this markus?_

_**1 New Notification (11 m ago):** Lunar Calendar: 1 week until the full moon._

Markus tapped on the message notification.

_You: Yo what up_

_(313) 248 3172: hi. i’m at work now, so i can’t stay and talk, but i hope we can get to know each other better soon._

Despite himself, Markus felt his mouth quirk up into a smile. Maybe his relationship with Connor wouldn’t be the same as it was, but that didn’t mean it was going to be worse off. Different didn’t always mean terrible.

_You: Oh yeah?_

_You: The full moon is in a week_

_You: Hope to see u then_

_(313) 248 3172: i’ll remember to buy something fresh._

_(313) 248 3172: also, you still need to give my clothes back._

_(313) 248 3172: okay, now i’m gone._

_You: Sorry about that gfsdghmjh_

_You: I’ll make sure I can get them to u soon_

_You: Later_

Markus locked his phone and made a move to put it away, but then he remembered why he pulled it out in the first place. He opened his GPS and looked for the nearest bus stop, then started heading towards it.

He made a mental note to do some laundry tonight, and to come up with a nickname for Connor on his phone whenever he got the chance.

For now, Markus had a bus to catch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know squat about how american phone numbers actually work but yes i 100% used their serial numbers fjdkgnfjd
> 
> the next chapter is a long one fellas!!! i havent got a clue when its coming out tho but i hope yall liked this one d(ouo)


	5. Routine Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus comes to Connor's house again, but they both know things are different this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its been so long!! lifes been a bitch lately but this chapter is super long so hopefully that makes up for it
> 
> thank you to RK Ten Hundred for proofreading this chapter and providing suggestions/commentary on the story ovo

Connor didn’t see Markus for a while after that. Then again, what with being busy at work, he never really noticed the passage of time. He may not have seen the other man, but the brief games of text-tag they had made up for it. Exchanging details had turned out to be a good idea, even if their conversations were cut short more often than not.

This month, Connor had marked the date of the full moon on his calendar, making sure to buy some fresh meat that day on his way home. A part of him was still reluctant; what if Markus didn’t come? What if he decided it was safer to spend the night with his own kind?

But the majority of him felt that he just…would. He hadn’t heard anything from him implying otherwise, and he seemed grateful enough when Connor had first granted him official permission to spend the night. And even if he didn’t show up, that just meant Connor would have to cook for himself some time soon, as opposed to ordering take-out again. As easy as it was, filling himself up with junk food every other night was expensive, fattening, and generally sort of gross.

…Not that it stopped him, but still.

He’d intended to wait a few hours until nightfall, working on cases or messing around online to kill time like he usually did. Instead, he got a text when he got home.

_**1 New Message (1 h ago):** moon moon: Is it chill if I come a little early? I finally managed to clean ur clothes so I could drop em off before everything goes down if ur ok w that_

Connor was caught off-guard by the offer, but he couldn’t see a reason not to take him up. He opened the messaging app and sent a reply.

_You: sorry for the late reply, i just got home. but go ahead and come when you’re ready._

Markus replied in less than a minute, sounding like he was in a rush, with:

_moon moon: Thx I’ll b there in a few_

With no idea how long ‘a few’ meant, Connor locked his phone and set it down on the coffee table before he took a glance around his house.

The living room wasn’t _that_ bad; bad eating habits aside, Connor tried to take care of himself, up to and including making sure he wasn’t living amongst trash. There were a few fresh take-out containers on the countertop and on the coffee table, and he’d spilled coffee on his couch more times than he could count, but the room overall had seen worse conditions.

Markus knew a lot about Connor, and he’d seen the state of a lot of his house already. He probably wasn’t expecting much. There was no reason to panic or anything. But still, there was no harm in cleaning up a little.

Connor ended up with just enough time to turn on the vacuum, clean the living room and corridor, and get about halfway through cleaning his bedroom before he heard the tune of his doorbell ringing. Apparently ‘a few’ meant somewhere around twenty minutes to Markus.

“Coming!” he called. He put his clothes hamper in the laundry room to be dealt with later, ducked into the bathroom to make sure he looked presentable - tidy hair, decent clothes, eyebags that weren’t dark enough to rival a raccoon’s -- before he dashed up to the door to greet his guest.

Markus stood in the entryway, carrying three bags - one made of reusable plastic, two made of paper and being cradled in one arm - and a nonplussed expression.

“Of all things to hear today, ‘Carol of the Bells’ playing from someone’s doorbell _in September_ definitely wasn’t one of them.”

Connor chuckled self consciously. “That was supposed to be a Christmas thing, but the pun was too great to pass up.”

Markus blinked in surprise, then sighed heavily when the realisation struck him. “Oh my god. I didn’t even notice the pun, I was so hung up on hearing a Christmas carol in Fall. That’s awful.”

“That’s art.”

“As someone with significantly more experience with art, I can tell you with confidence that you’re wrong.”

“Art is a subjective thing, Markus.”

The lycanthrope just shook his head and sighed, “Shut up and let me in.”

Wordlessly, Connor stepped to the side, allowing Markus space to enter. The latter nodded in thanks and stepped through the door, pushing it closed with his hip due to his hands being occupied. Speaking of which…

“What are you carrying?” Connor asked, gesturing to Markus’ bags.

“Oh, these?” Markus held one bag out to Connor, inviting him to take it. “Those are your clothes. The other bags are…well, I picked up dinner for myself on the way here. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Connor replied as he took the bag offered to him, trying to ignore the irritated thought of _‘I try to be courteous and I end up wasting money on meat instead of junk food,’_ in the back of his mind.

He shrugged it off and looked inside the bag; the shirt and jeans he’d loaned were both accounted for, as well as two fifty dollar notes.

“The cash is supposed to be there,” Markus clarified before Connor could mention it. “Consider it a thanks for helping me out all this time.”

Looking between the money and the man in front of him, Connor felt slightly dumbfounded. “It’s no trouble. You don’t need to pay me for helping you out; I’m just doing what I think is right.”

"And I appreciate that. A lot. It's been a really turbulent time for me, and I'm not sure how I'd be coping with it all if I didn't have somewhere safe to wait it out every month. Honestly, a hundred bucks feels like it's barely enough to show my gratitude."

"In my opinion, your company is payment enough. But I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Thank you, Markus."

Markus smiled warmly, and for a second Connor thought he felt his heart stutter. But just for a second, before Markus spoke again and distracted him from the sensation.

“Oh wait, do you have the time?”

Ah, right. Connor hung the bag of clothes on his coat rack for the moment and turned into the living room, Markus trailing behind him, to check his phone from the coffee table. “It’s 7:21.”

“So I’ve probably got a little over an hour to kill. Is there anywhere I can put my stuff down?”

Connor motioned to the coffee table. “I’m cheap and I live alone. This is the closest thing I have to an actual dining table. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Markus said, sitting down on the right side of the couch and unloading the contents of his bags onto the coffee table. Wow. That was a _lot_ of food.

“How much of that do you intend to eat?” Connor blurted.

Markus looked up at him, then averted his eyes, embarrassed. “Uh…unless you want one of the meals, all of it.”

Markus must have seen the dubious look cross Connor’s features and rushed to explain. “Er, l-let me explain. Shifting forms burns a lot of calories. That’s where the whole stereotypical, murdery werewolf thing came from. If you’re all hungry and in pain after the shift, you’re going to end up tearing into the first thing that moves without really thinking. But if you eat enough before you transform, it’s a lot more manageable. Hence…eating a meal that could feed a small family. I’m sorry, I know it’s sorta gross, but it’s necessary.”

“It’s okay,” Connor replied simply. He wasn’t sure what else to do; that was a lot of information. But it made sense, and Connor wasn’t going to let Markus starve for the sake of his own comfort.

He _was_ skeptical that he’d be able to eat four combo meals in one sitting, though.

“I don’t want you to feel indebted to me or anything. If you need that much food to stock up, I have food I can make for myself,” Connor explained, padding out to the kitchen. He could still hear Markus clearly, the two rooms being divided by the countertop.

“I don’t mind what you do. I’m not that pumped up about downing four cups of Pepsi in an hour,” Markus said.

“Pepsi?”

“They didn’t have Coke.”

“Let me guess, their ice cream machine was broken, too?”

“I mean, I didn’t ask, but I’d say that’s a safe bet,” Markus admitted. Connor could tell he was smiling just from the way he spoke, and there went his heart stuttering again.

He ignored it, opting instead to take the pork chops he bought earlier out of the fridge. Since Markus was feeding himself, he might as well just cook them up. He cut open the packaging and started to set up his frying pan, but then he heard Markus speak again.

“Are you cooking pork?”

Connor blinked. “Yeah. Why?”

“I can smell it from here. Heightened senses and everything. God, that smells strong,” he sighed, and when Connor turned around, he could see Markus leaning into the couch, rubbing his face exasperatedly with one hand, holding a box of fries in the other.

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, it’s not…it’s not all terrible. And it’s only really elevated for a couple days a month.”

“Really?” That was a detail that piqued Connor’s interest. He dropped two pork chops into the frying pan as he continued to listen.

“Yeah, basically everything is tied to what phase the moon is in. I get stronger every day when the moon is waxing, and then weaker when the moon is waning. All I want to do on a new moon is lie in bed and ignore all my responsibilities. Which is an unrealistic wish, but on the plus side, my senses are also really dull on a new moon.”

“How is that a plus?”

“I can’t smell all the pollution in a three mile radius. We live in Detroit, man. Do you know how much fucking air pollution is in this city?”

“I could hazard a guess,” Connor cringed sympathetically. “Sounds rough. How do you handle it?”

Markus sighed and leaned over to pick up a burger. “Same way I put up with everything lycanthropy puts me through. I don’t. By the way, you forgot to oil the pan.”

“Huh?”

Sure enough, the chops were burning. Connor swore and rooted through his pantry for the cooking oil, flicking open the cap once he retrieved it and pouring it into the pan a little too forcefully. The oil immediately heated up, a large amount of it splashing onto Connor’s wrist.

“Ow! Goddammit!” Connor cursed. Loudly.

“You alright?”

Connor set the bottle aside and wiped the oil off with a tea towel. “I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just really shitty at cooking, that’s all.”

This was why he always ordered take-out. At least if he ate food made by another, more competent person, he wouldn’t end up nearly setting himself on fire half the time.

“You want some help over there?”

“I got it. You just worry about yourself, I’ll live.”

“You sure? You should probably run that under cold water or something, just to be safe.”

“No need. It’s just a splash.”

Truth be told, it still hurt, and Markus was probably right. Connor just didn’t care enough to spend ten minutes running his wrist under a tap on the off chance it would scar. He turned his attention back to cooking, and eventually wound up with three (only slightly burned) pork chops, with the other half of the package spared for a later date.

He took his plate into the living room and settled down on the opposite side of the couch to Markus. All the bags and packages were empty, with Markus finishing off the last burger just as Connor sat down.

“How the hell did you stomach all that?”

Markus held a hand out briefly, then swallowed his last mouthful of food before answering, “Barely. What time is it?”

Connor checked his phone again. “7:44.”

Markus looked out the window. The sun was almost below the horizon, and it’d officially be nighttime in a little while. “Damn, I don’t remember what time the moon rises tonight,” he sighed.

“I can look it up, if you want?” Connor offered, but Markus just shook his head.

“Nah, I’ll probably get a couple minutes of warning. It’s fine.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Markus started as he packed up the trash from his dinner and compressed it all into one bag, “shifting really hurts. Before any physical changes happen, everything on the inside feels like it’s burning and twisting around. Everything just aches so much, and so suddenly. It feels like getting hit by a semi-truck. That’s on fire.”

“…Wow.”

“Yeah. Sorry, that was probably a lot more detail than you wanted.”

“No, no, it’s fine. A little fascinating, actually,” Connor admitted, picking at his pork chops and trying to pull the bones out. “Can I ask you a…personal question?”

Markus leaned back into the couch and folded his arms, tilting his head at Connor in a questioning manner. “How personal are we talking?”

Connor looked down at his plate, eyes flitting up to look at Markus hesitantly.

“…How do you feel about the whole thing? What’s it like?”

Markus pursed his lips as he thought the question over.

“The way it was described to me, is it’s sort of like a second puberty. Well, that definition is pretty loose, but it is similar in a couple of ways. Everything hurts, you’re either down to fight or down to fuck most of the time because your hormones don’t know what the hell they’re doing, but apparently it gets more manageable the longer you put up with it. There are some pretty glaring differences though. Last I checked, most teenagers don’t possess the upper body strength of an MMA fighter and an extremely lethal silver allergy.”

“How does the silver thing work? I never really understood that.” Connor stuck a piece of meat into his mouth as Markus continued to speak.

“If I went into specifics, my friends would probably gut me for it. But the thing about werewolves is we have an _insane_ healing factor. Scrapes and scratches heal in minutes, bigger gashes and broken bones in hours. Unless the blow is dealt by silver. If you get shot with silver, unless it’s an arm or a leg that can be amputated, you’re fucked.”

“Holy shit. So, you can’t even touch it?”

“Not exactly. Well, you could, but it would burn you irreparably. If you decide to wear some silver bracelets or whatever, your wrists are going to be burned for the rest of your life. It’s not recommended, is what I’m saying.”

“Hmm. Wait, so…what about your face?”

Markus furrowed his brow in confusion. “I don’t follow.”

Connor pointed at the scars above Markus’ eye. “These. The scars on your face. The marks on your ear. How come they didn’t heal?”

Markus didn’t respond right away. The light drained from his eyes almost alarmingly fast as he drew his arms tight against himself, one hand coming up to stroke the scarred side of his face. He stayed like that for a few seconds, enough time for Connor to almost speak up again before he swallowed and forced himself to respond.

“Wounds that were inflicted before you turned don’t heal…even if they’re what turned you in the first place.”

…Oh. Connor set his dinner aside. Suddenly, he didn’t particularly feel like eating.

“I’m sorry for asking. I should have known that was going too far,” he said, lifting a hand like he was trying to reach out to comfort Markus, but unsure if he should. But Markus just shook his head weakly.

“It’s okay. I just…really don’t like thinking about how I turned. It wasn’t exactly pleasant.”

“I won’t ask, then. It’s none of my business.”

A small, appreciative smile played at the corners of Markus’ lips. “Thank you. It’s not that I don’t trust you or anything. I just don’t think we really know each other well enough to have deep conversations about traumatic experiences.”

“Hey, I’ve complained to you about everything from petty workplace rivalries to childhood trauma. If you ever want to get even, I’m willing to listen. Even if it _is_ as petty as a shitty coworker,” Connor shrugged, giving Markus an awkward smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

That got Markus to smile earnestly, his shoulders shaking as a silent laugh left him, and there went Connor’s damn heart stuttering again. Either he needed to schedule another prosthetic test or he needed to stop acting like a bisexual disaster.

Uh oh, his achillean side was showing again. He decided to change the subject, trying valiantly to ignore the heat rising in his face. “So, um, if you have time to kill before you change, is there anything you want to do in the meantime?”

“Didn’t you say you have Netflix?”

Connor nodded and stood up to retrieve his laptop from his room. “I can hook something up. What are you in the mood for?”

“Hm…I don’t know. It really depends on how much time I have, and I don’t know that.”

“Well, you better decide fast, or I’m making us watch The Emoji Movie,” he threatened as he moved down the hall, still listening to Markus as he pretended to gag. (At least, Connor hoped he was pretending. He _did_ just eat a metric fuckload of junk food.)

“Don’t even joke about that, dude, I unironically loved that fucking movie when I was a kid.”

Connor couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the mere thought of that. “Seriously? How old were you?”

“I don’t know. God, I must’ve been, like, six when it came out?”

“Oh my god. Wait, so that makes you…twenty-seven this year, right?”

Markus nodded and held up a thumbs-up so Connor could see it from his spot in the bedroom doorway. “Bingo. My birthday was last month.”

“Oh! Same here, actually.”

“Really? When’s your birthday?”

Connor came back to the living room and gently dropped his laptop on the table before he sat back down. “August 15th, 2013.”

“Mine’s the 5th. Shit, dude, we’re like, ten days and two years apart. That’s sort of cool,” Markus chuckled.

“It really is. But what do you actually want to watch? I’m serious about picking The Emoji Movie if you don’t make a decision.”

Once Connor’s laptop was set up, Netflix began to play previews of shows and films he’d already watched. Brooklyn 99 was the first thing the site recommended to him, but most of them were mysteries and thrillers.

“Looks like it was easy to guess the detective’s genre of choice,” Markus joked.

“If the next thing out of your mouth isn’t an actual suggestion, I swear to god.”

“Okay, okay!” Markus raised his hands defensively. “Uh…fuck it, I’ve never actually seen Brooklyn 99. Is it good?”

Connor moved the cursor to hover over the ‘Continue Watching’ button. “I mean, _I_ clearly think it is. It’s not the most accurate cop show, but it’s a great comedy. It’s got a pretty diverse cast, too, considering how old it is.”

“Consider my interest piqued.”

With that confirmation, Connor fiddled with the interface until the pilot was playing and scooted the laptop to the middle of the table, so Markus could see as well. He picked up his plate again and ate his dinner quietly as the opening played in front of them. Connor knew better than to be ‘that guy’ and try to strike up a conversation when he was trying to show someone a show they’d never seen.

But Connor had seen this episode several times. He could probably quote the entire cold open sequence by now, so instead he found his eyes wandering to Markus’ face, trying to gauge how he was responding to the show. He looked neutral, but attentive, and a small smile would flash across his face whenever the characters did something silly.

And then when a joke really stuck to him, he honestly started snickering. His eyes squinted in amusement, crinkling at the corners, and he held a hand up to his mouth to try and suppress his laughter.

Had it been possible with a prosthetic, Connor was absolutely certain that hearing such a light and gleeful sound come from someone so closed-off (and _attractive,_ to boot) would have made his heart skip a beat. He forced himself to look away before Markus noticed him staring.

God. For someone who sucked so much at showing emotions to other people, he sure got infatuated easily. He thought back to a conversation he’d had with his dad a few days ago, when they’d both gone to get coffee after their shift.

_“So, you remember that guy we ran into who bailed out North Tracy?” Hank asked, nursing his mug._

_Connor froze momentarily. Surely he wasn’t suspicious about Markus’ true nature, but he still couldn’t help but notice the uneasy feeling in his gut. He swallowed his mouthful of coffee._

_“Yes. What about him?”_

_“What do you think about him? Honestly.”_

_Connor furrowed his brow. “I don’t know what you mean, Lieutenant.”_

_“Call me Dad, kiddo. We’re off the clock. And I mean, well…what was his name again?”_

_“Markus Manfred.”_

_Hank snapped his fingers. “See, you just smiled. Right when you said his name. You_ remembered _his name, Con. Normally you suck at pairing names to faces.”_

_Ah. They’re doing this now, apparently. Connor felt warmth rising in his face, but he tried to ignore it._

_“I’m better at recognising people with distinct features. Markus has heterochromia, and I met him under memorable circumstances. It makes sense that I would have recognised him.”_

_His dad was smiling. Connor wasn’t sure why, but it made him feel like he was digging himself into a hole._

_“Sure, that makes sense. You know what didn’t make sense to me?” he asked, taking another swig of coffee._

_“What’s that?”_

_Hank set down his coffee and looked Connor in the eye. The unease in Connor’s stomach became closer to resembling dread. He was being stared down, the same way Hank normally stared down a suspect when he was trying to get them to confess. Even when he wasn’t on the clock, guessing his day job was no difficult task._

_“You asked him for his number. You stuttered when you spoke to him. You got that little look in your eye when he left. You got that look whenever you talked about Chloe, too. Or Daniel. Or Kara.”_

_Goddammit. This was why it sucked to have a dad who was also a cop. Instead of trying to justify himself, Connor drank his coffee to have an excuse not to speak._

_“Connor, have you got a crush on Markus?”_

_Even though part of him was expecting it, Connor choked on his beverage and coughed wildly when he came up for air._

_“Oh my god, Dad!” he wheezed. Hank, the smug bastard, simply burst out laughing._

_“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’!”_

_Connor dropped his head onto the table, certain that he was blushing now. “I don’t…no. I barely know him. I just think that on a_ purely aesthetic _level…he’s really attractive.”_

_“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Hank said, chuckling into his mug before he took another sip. Having finished his cup, Hank set it aside and slowly raised his hand, giving Connor ample time to stop him, before patting him on the shoulder._

_“You know I’m just teasin’ you, Connor.”_

_Connor lifted his head out of his arms enough to make brief eye contact with Hank. “Could you not?”_

_“Nope. I’m a dad, I’m legally obligated to embarrass my kids. It’s in the job description.”_

_“Daaad…”_

_“Alright, alright. I’m sorry. But I get where you’re coming from. I might be straight, but I’m not blind. If you and him ever become a thing, I’ll support that.”_

In the moment, Connor had felt like the conversation was uncalled for. He wasn’t that obviously into Markus, was he?

Yeah. No. He’d spoken to this guy a grand total of three times and he was already developing a stupid case of puppy love. Fan-fucking-tastic.

He’d been through this before. Far too often, in his own opinion. He knew the drill; there was nothing he could do except wait it out. The infatuation would peter out eventually, like it usually did. He just had to make sure he didn’t make a complete ass out of himself in the meantime.

And he _had_ to stop staring at Markus. He didn’t know when, but at some point he’d turned his head back to watch the other man’s reactions to the show they were supposed to be watching. What part were they even up to? A quick glance at the screen showed a montage of blatant hints about Captain Holt’s sexuality that the main characters largely failed to pick up on.

Markus cracked up again and had both hands pressed over his mouth this time. He looked like he was trying his hardest not to burst into a fit of giggles. Honestly, it was kind of adorable.

Until it wasn’t.

Suddenly, Markus doubled over and let out a cry of pain, still muffled by his own hands.

“Are you alright?!” Connor asked, a little louder than he would’ve liked.

Markus shook his head and put his hands in his lap, groaning through clenched teeth. “Fuck, fuck, no. What time is it?”

Shit, Connor had almost forgotten. He paused the show and left fullscreen mode to look at the computer’s clock.

“It’s ten past eight.”

Markus cried out again, a sharper noise that just couldn’t be contained. “ _Aack!_ Out of time, okay, fuck, outta time!”

Markus leapt out of his seat and dashed down the hall, unzipping his hoodie and flinging it aside as he went. Concerned and slightly afraid, Connor jumped up and followed him, flinching as Markus slammed the bathroom door right next to his face.

Connor pounded on the door. He didn’t really mean to knock so forcefully, but his fear response was threatening to get the better of him. “Markus, are you okay in there?!”

He could hear fumbling noises from the other side. “Ye-Yeah! I’ll be, _rrgh,_ I’m fine! Give me a minute, please?!”

He was still a little scared, but Connor understood what was happening. Markus understood this better than he did, and he was going to be okay, even if he sounded like he wasn’t.

“Okay! Is there anything I can do to help?”

“ _Aaargh, shit!_ Yeah, just keep talking to me, please! I’m-I’m freaking out, okay, hearing someone familiar _ow,_ it-- _rrh,_ it helps… _Fuck,_ it hurts!”

“You’ll be alright, Markus. Keep listening to me, okay? You’re not in danger. Everything is going to be alright, this is normal for you. You’re in a safe place, nothing is going to hurt you here.”

“I-I-I _III…_ it hu-hur-t- _hurts…_ Co… _nn…rrrgh…_ ”

Markus didn’t sound completely human anymore. Even though Connor knew the reason, he still grew anxious. His voice almost wavered as he kept trying to talk his friend through the distressing experience. “Markus? Markus! Don’t panic, okay? Stay with me, man!”

He heard a distinct thud of something heavy falling to the floor, followed by the sound of glass breaking.

“Markus?!”

Then, from the other side of the door, Markus made some kind of horrific sound. It started as a scream -- muffled, like he was fighting to keep it contained -- and ended sounding more like a roar. It was completely inhuman and absolutely unnatural.

Connor had been preparing himself for the worst, but it still felt like that sound alone had torn his soul from his body.

He could no longer hear Markus on the other side of the door. He hoped that meant it was over, and not the worst case scenario that the irrational, fearful part of Connor’s mind was supplying him. He reached out and gently knocked on the door.

“Markus…?” he called in a small, unsure voice.

No response.

Connor’s fear turned to worry, settling heavy in his stomach. He tried to twist the doorknob, surprised to find that it opened without hassle. He pushed the door open and peered through the crack.

All he could see was the sink and a bit of the floor. The counter by the sink was cracked - he assumed that Markus had stumbled into it and knocked everything down - and going off what he could see, Markus’ jeans were thrown on the ground and covered in a familiar shade of brown fur.

Connor let the door open the rest of the way and took in the full sight of the bathroom. Clothes that weren’t his were scattered frantically across the room, clearly removed in a rush before the transformation tore or stretched them irreparably. Tufts of fur clung to the discarded clothing and a few sections of the floor. The clattering of small objects he had heard from outside was due to various bottles and bathroom products being knocked off the sink, along with the glass jar most of the items were stored in.

And there he was. Among the sea of cloth, fur and broken glass. A familiar-looking canine, panting hard and barely managing to stand on shaky legs. He looked up at Connor with fatigued, mismatched eyes.

Still in shock, and moving mostly on impulse, Connor closed the door again and walked away, automatically heading to the kitchen pantry.

Under his breath, he muttered, "I need a freaking drink."


	6. Mistakes That We Could Make Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night is more eventful than Markus and Connor had anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter took so long owo;; ive got exams in a couple of weeks and im lowkey panicking about just about everything so things might slow down from here for a little while and im sorry if that happens
> 
> this chapter is really long though (like it basically has a three act structure for some goddamn reason gnjfdn) so hopefully that makes up for it?? anyway hope you enjoy it!!!
> 
> (also the chapter title is from "until the wolves come out" by nathan sharp because im not subtle apparently fnjfsd)

There were times in Markus’ life where he wondered ‘how did I get here?’ and this was definitely one of them.

How was he supposed to know that climbing through a random hole in a fence in a fit of panic would lead, months later, to him being stuck in a cop’s bathroom, furiously scratching at the door as he tried in vain to call out for the cop in question?

Alas, Markus couldn't change the past. He didn’t think he would want to, but still. The knowledge that he was in such a confusing situation would have been almost funny if he weren’t so antsy about being stuck in a room he couldn’t leave. Why did Connor leave? Why did he close the door? When was he coming back? …He _was_ coming back, right?

Markus clawed at the door harder and whimpered. It was all he could really do, now. His mouth wasn’t structured for human speech, and he hadn’t practiced talking in this form anywhere near enough to say something comprehensible. The restless, creature-like part of him knew that he could easily break the door down with his supernaturally increased strength, but he wouldn’t let himself. It would be way too loud, not to mention immediately jumping to property damage was just inconsiderate.

The door suddenly swung open, pushing Markus backwards with it. Connor stood over him with an uncapped bottle in one hand. He couldn’t see the label properly, but his heightened sense of smell picked up the scent of beer. He couldn’t exactly request an explanation for the other man’s sudden disappearance, so he settled for tilting his head quizzically.

Connor met his eyes and took a swig from the bottle before capping it again. “Sorry for leaving like that. That whole…spectacle…sort of fucked me up.”

_‘How the hell did you think_ I _felt?’_ is what Markus wanted to say. In reality, all he could say was “Woof.”

“Yeah, you’re the one who was actually suffering, but…I was scared. Part of me thought you were dying. Are you okay?”

Thank god, a yes-or-no question. Something Markus could actually respond to. He nodded quickly and sat down, trying to gesture with his head for Connor to do the same. It took a few repeated actions before he got the message, set his beer down and kneeled in front of Markus, at which point he stepped forward and pushed his head against Connor’s chest, letting his breath out in a relieved huff as he allowed his head to rest there. The movement noticeably startled Connor, but he attempted to reciprocate by parting his legs to accommodate Markus’ body and burying his hands in the werewolf’s fur.

They stayed there for a couple of minutes, which Markus was grateful for. He wasn’t sure how Connor would react, but a cooldown hug was more than welcome while he reined himself in, and while the adrenaline from the shift fizzled out. The wolf half of him felt trapped by the hug, trying to urge Markus to escape from what it interpreted as a claustrophobic hold, but he ignored it like he usually did. He was getting better at that with the help of Connor and the pack.

Connor ran his fingers through his fur therapeutically, one hand petting his head and another stroking his back. He couldn’t help but melt under the grounding touch, even if he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this was weird now that Connor knew he could think like a human.

A notion that Connor appeared to agree with. He stopped moving his hands and Markus looked up at him questioningly.

“Is it weird for me to keep petting you?” Connor asked. “I mean…you’re basically a person stuck in a wolf’s body. It’s not like I’m just patting your naked back like some creep, is it?”

Markus released an amused breath and shook his head, pushing up against Connor’s hand as an attempt to encourage him. Connor chuckled uncertainly and scratched Markus behind his unscarred ear and _god,_ that felt nice.

“Alright, then. So…what now? I mean, what do you want to do for the night? This was a lot easier when I thought you had the average intelligence of a two-year-old…”

Connor stopped again and pulled back enough to give Markus an embarrassed look. “Okay, that sounded much less offensive in my head. I’m sorry about that.”

The sound Markus made at that statement was utterly bizarre, but that was to be expected when someone tried to laugh without a human mouth. He wriggled out of Connor’s arms and padded out of the bathroom, tilting his head toward the hallway as if motioning him to follow, which he did.

Connor stood up, picked up his bottle and gave a lingering glance to the bathroom, before sighing and following Markus into the corridor. That was when Markus really took a moment to look at what he’d done to the bathroom, and…jeez, that was going to be hell to clean.

On one hand, Markus had been too busy panicking and trying not to scream from pain to really care about the bathroom at the time, but on the other hand he definitely felt bad about breaking Connor’s stuff now that he could think clearly. He felt his ears point down in shame and looked up to give Connor what he hoped was an apologetic look.

He wasn’t sure if it worked, but it made Connor smile, which he considered an achievement. He looked tired today - most days, actually - and being able to make someone a little happier when they were feeling like crap was one of the best feelings, in Markus’ opinion.

He turned back around and walked further into Connor’s house. He stopped at the kitchen, momentarily overtaken by the primal instinct to eat, but he was able to restrain himself. Fueling up before the transformation certainly had its benefits, even if it was incredibly difficult to stomach. Instead, Markus continued walking and didn’t stop until he reached the living room, trotting up to the couch and barely restraining himself from jumping onto the couch immediately. Instead, he put one paw on the couch cushion and looked at Connor for permission.

“What are you doing? You worried about getting wolf hair on my couch or something?”

He nodded, sighing heavily through his nose. He knew his hair tended to shed a lot. It was a problem before he became a werewolf; even part of the reason he shaved his head. (On top of the fact that he just preferred it aesthetically.) He knew he’d feel bad if he gave Connor even more of a mess to clean up without thinking about it.

Connor just scoffed and gestured to the couch with his free hand. “Go ahead. I’ve had that thing since I moved in. I don’t care if it gets dirtier.”

Markus took the opportunity to leap onto the couch where he’d been sitting before he turned. Connor’s laptop was now in sleep mode, so he reached over and tapped the touchpad enough to wake it up. He was greeted by a lock screen asking for Connor’s password, so he turned back to Connor and let out a small whine in place of real words.

This time, Connor got the message quickly. He sat down beside Markus and typed in his password. Netflix was still pulled up, but the show was paused. Connor looked between Markus and the screen in front of them.

“You just wanna keep watching Netflix all night?”

Markus thought for a second before he shrugged. Well, as much as a wolf could shrug.

“Was that a shrug?”

Markus huffed sheepishly and nodded, flopping down on the couch. Connor unscrewed the cap of his beer bottle again and took a sip from it.

“Well, I think I’m just gonna keep watching. Bad idea to touch anything related to work when I’m drinking. You’re welcome to watch, too, but if you need anything else just give me a sign.” He gave the bottle a lingering glance as he swirled the contents around, before looking back to Markus. “…Ideally before I finish this. I'm a little bit of a lightweight,” he admitted with an embarrassed chuckle.

There was that weird, almost-laughing sound again as Markus rolled his eyes lightheartedly. He could relate; before he had a healing factor too strong to get anywhere close to drunk, he could barely stand after a few cocktails. His stepbrother’s 24th birthday had been memorable for all the wrong reasons.

He rested his head on his front paws as Connor pressed the play button and the episode picked up where they left off. A part of Markus, the primal and instinctual part of him, protested at this. During a shift, it was so much louder and difficult to ignore, shouting _go, go, go,_ but it was getting slightly easier to manage as he got more used to his condition. As long as he kept himself in a good headspace, the more wolfish characteristics were easy to control.

He had the pack to thank for that information. Self-restraint was one of the most important parts of adapting to being a werewolf, and god knows he would have given in to the pain and fear of the experience long ago had he not encountered Lucy. She was the oldest werewolf Markus knew, and she didn’t even have a second thought before she decided to take pity on him and introduce him to the others.

North, who considered lycanthropy a mixed blessing. Josh, whose gentle personality utterly conflicted with his condition. Phileas, who was scarred but wise beyond belief. Simon and Daniel, the twins who had been werewolves from birth. All of them took him under their wing like it was nothing. Markus was convinced that that was nothing short of a miracle.

A quiet yawn suddenly escaped Markus. Trying to doze off while he had the opportunity sounded like a pretty good idea, actually. Connor’s laptop droning on even provided some good background noise for it. He adjusted his body slightly and closed his eyes.

The longer he thought about it, the more Markus considered himself lucky. Connor could have easily cut ties with him as soon as he found out he was a werewolf. He could have tried to kill him. But he didn’t. No, he embraced it, let him into his home tonight without expecting anything in return. He continued to show generosity when he was well within his right to refuse. Markus couldn’t believe he managed to run into someone who was willing to let him sleep on their couch and watch sitcoms from the New 10’s like it was no big deal.

Some small part of him was still doubtful. What if he was doing it out of fear? What if he was only extending an olive branch because he knew that Markus knew others like him? What if he was doing it because he knew Markus was perfectly capable of killing him? Was he afraid of being killed?

But he was quick to stamp out his own doubts. Connor was a detective; he knew how to negotiate, and if it really came down to it, how to defend himself. On top of that, werewolves were rare. Simon once told him there were _maybe_ a hundred in the Detroit area, and as far as he knew, there were only two who even knew Connor existed, himself included. He had nothing to worry about.

A hand on Markus’ back startled him out of his thoughts. He tensed up for a second before he realised that Connor was just stroking his fur once again. He cracked an eye open slightly to see Connor’s eyes fixed on his screen. He wasn’t sure if the detective had noticed his hand even move, but he wouldn’t be surprised.

The animal part of him screamed to push the hand away, to run or defend himself, in contrast to the human part of him that knew he was touch-starved and didn’t want that hand to move for at least an hour. Besides, Connor seemed to really enjoy petting Markus, and it felt pretty nice on his end, too. What reason was there to stop him?

(There were plenty. Markus knew the risks of this whole situation, he knew he shouldn’t be here. But he was so desperate to believe Connor was as non-threatening as he promised, he was prepared to ignore the risk factors.)

Before he knew it, Markus was drifting off, the laptop and the hand lazily playing with his fur the only stimulus he cared to pay attention to.

***

He was pulled away from sleep suddenly. When he opened his eyes, he noticed a couple of things were wrong. First of all, Connor was gone, his laptop closed and two empty beer bottles lined up beside it. His side of the couch was almost cold. He must have left a little while ago.

Second of all, he felt some unusual sensation in the back of his mind. Some sort of presence he was subconsciously picking up and trying to home in on. What was it? He sat up and tried to concentrate on the presence, hoping to have at least some focus even if he was inexperienced and only just waking up.

He closed his eyes and singled out the presence in his mind, ignoring all other scents and sounds that came in from every angle. Eventually, he managed to get a grip on whatever the presence was doing.

It was lingering in the backyard. He could hear grass and leaves crunching beneath its feet. The light rain coming down on its back, being muffled by hair. When it breathed, it sounded like a canine of some kind. Markus honed in on the creature’s scent, and worry settled heavily in his stomach.

That was the smell of a werewolf. And then worry turned into devastation when he realised that the scent of this particular werewolf was familiar.

What the hell was North doing here? Wasn’t she paranoid about Connor? Markus figured she would have tried to steer clear of him to lessen the odds of him finding out about her and the others.

…Unless that was her reason for coming.

Markus’ eyes widened and he leapt off the couch, beginning to make his way to the back porch in an attempt to convince North to leave. But before Markus could get that far, the bathroom door opened and Connor stepped out. Right on cue, the sound of scratching against the metal door rang out through the corridor. The noise startled Markus and made Connor cringe and cover his ears.

“Ugh! Wha-- Who’s there?” he slurred.

Oh shit. If he was drunk, and if North had malicious intent, Connor was screwed. Markus rushed over and pulled on his pant leg as a desperate attempt to get his attention. He jumped slightly and looked down at Markus. His face was flushed red, his eyes glassy, and he swayed gently where he stood.

(Man, he really _was_ a lightweight.)

“Ah…Markus? What’re you doing? Everything okay?”

Still with his teeth clamped on the fabric of Connor’s jeans, Markus shook his head and looked pointedly at the back door.

“What’s wrong?”

Markus released Connor’s leg so he could point his nose at the door and whine. He hoped Connor would understand, even if he was intoxicated. Connor followed his eyes and turned to look at the door, where North was still scratching on the other side. The door handle started rattling, like she was trying the lock. The door was locked, but it was also made of old, flimsy metal, and the handle was one of those easy-to-open lever designs.

Markus could sense where this was going, and he was _not_ optimistic about Connor’s chances. Detective or not, an unarmed, tired, inebriated human wouldn’t stand a chance against an experienced werewolf with a strong motive. He bit Connor’s pant leg again and yanked hard, causing Connor to stumble. “Hey! Markus, what’s goin’ on?”

_TSHH!_

The sound of something (more like some _one_ ) crashing into the door at full force nearly made both men jump out of their skin. Markus pulled on Connor’s leg more urgently, and Connor finally made a move to follow.

Unfortunately, he was a little more wasted than Markus had initially thought. His panicked stumble ended up costing him when another _CHCHH!_ against the door was enough to make it snap it off its hinges and land directly on top of Connor, trapping him from the waist down.

And lying on top of the door, keeping Connor pinned beneath it, was a familiar looking wolf. Focused brown eyes, brown fur dyed fiery orange, teeth bared in hatred. She growled loudly and dug her claws into Connor’s shoulders.

North.

“Give me one good reason not to tear your throat out, human,” she snarled. She’d been a werewolf far longer than Markus had, so she had much more control over her voice in this form.

“W-What?! Get off me!” Connor yelled and struggled under the force trapping him, but Markus knew he didn’t stand a chance. If a werewolf had you pinned, you weren’t getting back up.

“That’s not a reason, motherfucker. You know Markus, don’t you?”

She briefly glanced up to Markus, narrowing her eyes and giving him a look that said _“We’re having a serious talk after this.”_

But then she looked back down and redirected her attention to Connor, leaning down just a little more to keep him trapped. Connor was too caught up in fighting back to speak, so North kept talking. “Yeah, that’s right. That wolf right in front of you? He’s my friend. And word on the street is that he told you that he’s one of us, am I right? Well, I _really_ don’t trust humans with that sort of secret. So here’s an ultimatum for you.”

She dug her claws further into Connor’s flesh, just shy of splitting the skin, but hard enough to make him cry out. Markus looked on in terror, the animal part of him fighting for control, yelling at him to step in and do _something._

“I can either kill you now, or I can turn you into one of us. Just to make sure you don’t tell anyone we exist,” North offered. When Connor didn’t answer, she moved to lift Connor’s head up and press a claw to his throat threateningly. Connor yelled and thrashed beneath her, uselessly trying to move his arms, legs, torso - _anything_ to get away.

Markus knew better. Connor might as well have been on Death’s door at that moment. North wasn’t letting him go without a fight.

…Markus could fight.

“Well? Say something! It’s time to deci-- _ow!_ ”

Without a second thought, Markus lunged at North, tackling her with enough force to knock her backwards, sending both of them rolling out the door and into the backyard. When they came to a stop, Markus was the one trapping North and snapping at her.

Okay. Time to test that weird telepathy power.

_“What the hell are you doing here?!”_

_“I could ask you the same thing, Markus. Do you have any common sense? You can’t trust a human! I’m here to protect you; hell,_ all _of us!”_

_“By threatening an innocent man? He’s sworn not to tell anyone fifty times, already!”_

He looked over at Connor, who had managed to climb out from beneath the door and was now sitting up on his elbows with panic-stricken eyes. North took the brief moment of distraction as an opportunity to topple Markus, pinning him down with ease.

_“We. Can’t. Trust him. It’s bad enough a human knows about us, but a cop? Do you know how catastrophic it would be if he told one of his higher-ups?! Do you think about anything before you act, Markus?!”_

_“It’s not like I went and told him myself, alright? Get off me!”_

Markus thrashed wildly and mustered the energy to throw North of of him. She stood up, growling and baring her teeth as she prepared to strike again.

_“Why the hell did you come back after he found out? This isn’t your only option, you know. You could spend the night with me, or Phileas, or Daniel and Simon, or Lucy and Josh. I know Lucy keeps telling you that you’re strong enough to hold your own, but you’ll be safer if you stay with us, Markus. Not with someone who could kill you!”_

_“He’s my friend!”_

_“You don’t know him!”_

_“I know enough to be certain he’s not the sort of guy to stab someone in the back when they didn’t do anything to him. Not all humans are out to get us, I’m telling you! Do you really have to threaten every single one who finds out about us before you can sleep at night?”_

_“Yes! There are only two ways I can be sure he’s not going to cause another war against us. We kill him, or we change him. You’ve never met a hunter, you have_ no idea _how dangerous they can be. If you’d seen half the stuff the rest of us have seen, you’d be on board.”_

_“If you’d spent an hour talking to Connor, you would know he hasn’t even thought anything shifty. If he wanted to do anything to me, he would have by now.”_

North glared at Connor, causing Markus to instinctively move between the two, his lips curling into a snarl.

_“Leave,”_ Markus commanded.

_“What if I don’t?”_

_“Listen to yourself, North! If you turn him, you take away a part of him he can never get back. Just because we’ve been turned into monsters doesn’t mean we have to continue the cycle by dragging every poor bastard who finds out down with us. And if you kill him, it won’t help anyone. He dies, and then what? His disappearance is investigated, and humanity finds out about us because you decided to kill him.”_

North didn’t reply, but she looked a little taken aback by Markus’ statement. It spurred him on to keep explaining. He really didn’t want to hurt North unless there were no more options. He had to try reason, at least.

_“Where would it end? Would you kill more humans to keep them silent? Which would lead to more disappearances, which would lead to more investigations, which would lead to more killing and more disappearances that never end! You would lose your mind if you went down that path, all because you’re scared that_ one _human might let it slip!”_

As Markus tried to talk North down, he noticed the aggression slowly bleed out of her eyes. Her face nearly returned to a neutral state, but it wasn’t quite there yet. North stared at Connor, who was trembling and barely daring to breathe. Markus backed up slowly and shielded Connor’s body with his own.

_“Be reasonable. Make the right decision, North.”_

North hesitated, glaring at Markus again. If looks could kill, Markus would be dead ten times over. She let out a low, elongated growl and shook with anger. But then she stopped, her ears pointed down in defeat.

She came closer, but without the murderous fire in her eyes she had moments prior. She leaned over Markus to get right into Connor’s face, who was still too scared (and still too drunk) to get away.

“You came _this close_ to dying tonight. You understand? If you breathe a word of our existence to _anyone_ then mark my fucking words, you won’t live to see another sunrise.”

Markus couldn’t turn his head to look at Connor, but all he heard as a reply was his panicked, laboured breathing. North backed up enough to look at Markus one more time.

“Don’t you dare make me regret this, Manfred.”

She continued to back up until she was about halfway across the yard, then she turned and crawled away through the hole in the fence. Markus sighed in relief and maneuvered himself into the space North was occupying, allowing him to get a good look at Connor.

His face was blotchy, mostly pale, but his cheeks and nose were still flushed from the alcohol. He was sweating so profusely, Markus could literally smell his fear. His entire body was still rigid, like if he moved, North would come straight back to tear him limb from limb. He took sharp, short breaths, and Markus could hear his prosthetic heart whirring and ticking wildly.

To see Connor, someone usually so straight-faced and level-headed having such an acute fear response, was jarring at best. At worst, it was heartbreaking.

Markus nuzzled Connor’s leg gently in an attempt to coax him out of it. It didn’t work, so Markus repeated the action and rested his head on Connor’s leg. He kept staring straight at the hole in the fence with untrained, glassy eyes.

To hell with it. Markus climbed across Connor’s lap and lay down, applying most of his weight to Connor’s body. That got the man to blink himself out of his trance-like state and look down at Markus, who was giving him an apologetic, sympathetic gaze. Connor closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, seemingly realising that he was hyperventilating.

Markus was content to simply stay there and be an anchor for Connor while he calmed down. His breathing slowly evened out as his arms gave out on him and his entire body landed on the ground. Markus lifted his head to look at Connor again, and Connor looked back.

“Tha-Thanks,” he managed to mumble.

Markus simply nodded and cautiously climbed off the man, pushing his nose under Connor's back to try and get him to stand. He complied, miraculously standing up despite his drunken, distressed state of mind. Though he had to lean against the wall to support himself fully. Markus nudged him again and walked in the direction of his room, and Connor followed behind, knowing what Markus was trying to do.

Connor fumbled to open the door to his bedroom and stepped inside, immediately making a beeline for his bed and flopping down onto it without bothering to take off his clothes. Markus entered the room behind him, slowly approaching closer until he could inspect his face.

He had immediately passed out. All things considered, Markus wasn’t surprised. He suppressed the compulsion from nowhere to nuzzle Connor’s forehead and backed away, looking around the room for an idea of what to do next.

He left the room, giving Connor a lingering stare from the hallway before he closed the door behind him. Having nothing else to do, he settled for sleeping on the couch until it was time to leave. And that’s what he did.

_‘The next time I see North should be interesting,’_ he thought right before he drifted off once again.

***

And it was. But not exactly in the way Markus expected.

That morning, he was the second last one to return to Josh’s minivan, which had long since become the established rendezvous point at the end of the night. Daniel was circling the car impatiently, Simon and Josh were looking up at the horizon waiting for sunrise, and Lucy and North were keeping watch.

Lucy was the first one to notice him, before he even reached the vehicle. “Markus is here,” she said simply.

Everyone else turned to face him. Daniel sprinted off to meet him, Simon and Josh trailing behind.

“Markus! Do you know where Phileas is?”

Markus shook his head. _“I haven’t seen him all night. Why, can’t you track him?”_

“No, none of us can. He’s completely off the radar.”

_“Maybe he’s going home by himself. He does that sometimes, right?”_

“Yeah, but normally he gives us a warning,” Josh chimed in. “He’s been quiet all night.”

_“Weird…well, he could just be a little hung up. How long until sunrise now?”_

“Not enough time,” Daniel said. “The moon has almost set. We’ve got maybe a couple of minutes left, I can feel it. Unless he can run faster than light, he’s not going to make it.”

“We wanted to make sure that you were safe before we went and looked for him,” Simon explained. “But now it’s too late. There’s no way we can find him in time.”

“If you’d just spent the night with us, then we wouldn’t be in this mess,” North mumbled.

Markus narrowed his eyes at North. _“Maybe if you didn’t break down a drunk human’s door down, I wouldn’t have been held up trying to fix it.”_

“You what?!” Josh exclaimed, whirling to face North. “North?”

North looked away and growled quietly.

“North, did you really do that?” Simon asked.

“…He’s a detective. He’s a _threat,_ and Markus doesn’t see that. I was just trying to make sure he wouldn’t get us all killed, alright?”

_“She nearly killed him!”_

“Wait, he’s a detective?” Daniel squinted and looked at North.

“Oh yeah. With the DPD, no less.”

“And he knows about werewolves?”

“No thanks to the wolf cub over here!”

_“Please stop calling me that.”_

North ignored him, and Daniel turned around to glare at him. “What the fuck? Are you braindead?! Please tell me you at least didn’t tell him about the silver thing!”

_“No! Well, he asked, but I didn’t tell him why it kills us.”_

“God _dammit,_ Manfred!” Daniel growled, sinking down onto the ground and dragging his front paws over his face in frustration.

_“Don’t give me that shit, the whole ‘werewolves are weak to silver’ tidbit is common knowledge, even to the ones who don’t know we exist.”_

“You still didn’t need to tell him it was true!” North complained.

“As long as we keep to ourselves, we have nothing to worry about,” Josh said. “If we make threats, we’re just proving that we’re something to be feared and fought against. I’m not saying Markus is in the right, but breaking into someone’s house is _not_ helping,” he finished, giving North a pointed look.

“If we kept to ourselves, humans would never find out about us in the first place,” North snapped. “We have to get rid of the threats as fast as possible. Stamp out the weeds before they spread. And the best way to do that is to show the ones who know about us that we can’t be fucked with!”

“By killing them?!”

“By doing whatever it takes to stop them from killing _us!_ ”

“That’s _enough!_ ”

Simon stood between the two arguing werewolves, growling at them until they backed away from each other.

“We don’t have time for this! Both of you need to calm down and get ready to shift. We can talk this over later.”

Josh stalked away to the other side of the car, but North just glared at Simon, growling slightly.

“North,” Lucy spoke up, drawing the other's attention. “I know you have good intentions, but please be careful. Many hunters become hunters because of people like us maiming their loved ones. Even though you have nothing but the safety of the pack in mind - which is incredibly admirable - you might end up regretting what you do in the heat of the moment.”

North sighed and turned to face the other woman.

“Lucy…do I even need to remind you about the hunter who took you? What _his_ motives were? Because they definitely weren’t tied to reven--”

She screwed her eyes shut and groaned as a wave of pain swept over her and the rest of the pack simultaneously. Markus nearly keeled over, caught off-guard by the feeling, but well aware what it was.

Daniel, Simon, Lucy, and North’s transformations were over with in a matter of seconds. Josh took slightly longer, but still barely twenty seconds. Markus wished, not for the first time, that he was more accustomed to the process already, because at least then it wouldn’t be so long and agonizing.

It seemed to be getting at least a little shorter. Or maybe he was paying less attention to how much time passed. Either way, the process felt mercifully quick, and Markus was soon standing on all fours in his human body, panting through gritted teeth as the last of the pain ebbed from his body.

He felt eyes on him and groaned, “Fuckin' take a picture, it'll last longer.”

“Are you alright?” either Simon or Daniel asked. Markus felt a hand close to his face, being offered out to him.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Markus replied, taking the hand and allowing Simon (he was sure it was Simon now) to pull him to his feet, while trying to keep his eyes away from anyone’s unmentionables.

(Oh, the joys of shapeshifting without clothing.)

Josh was already rifling through the trunk of the minivan and passing bags of clothes around. North took her bag from Josh and pulled Markus’ bag out of the trunk herself, tossing it in his direction so fast he could barely catch it.

He quickly got dressed and climbed into the back of the van, fishing his phone and wallet out of his bag once he had his seatbelt on. He hesitated for a second and looked up. North and the others were still outside getting dressed, and Daniel was all the way in the front seat.

He decided it was safe to fire a quick apology to Connor. Even if he wasn’t awake, and even if there wasn’t any reception all the way out here.

_You: Sorry about last night, north can be really intense when she feels threatened. I’ll try to talk some sense into her before she decides to break the front door too. (Also I tried to fix ur door but as you can imagine that’s a little impossible when u dont have opposable th_

Lucy suddenly climbed into the back seat next to him, startling Markus enough to make him send his message prematurely. He cursed under his breath and locked his phone, smiling weakly at her.

“Are you alright, Markus?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Markus glanced down at his phone and tucked it into his pocket. “Yeah. I’m just a little…conflicted, I guess.”

Lucy and placed a hand on Markus’ shoulder, rubbing his arm and smiling reassuringly. “I’m not surprised. It’s a delicate issue. Just trust in yourself and your instincts. Listen to what your heart has to say before you listen to anything else.”

“I thought you’d on North’s side. Considering, um…everything you’ve been through.”

The older werewolf smiled sadly and sat back in her seat slightly, curling one of her dreadlocks around her finger.

“I would be lying if I said that I haven’t suffered at the hands of humans. But I know that they don’t all see us as nothing but monstrous, walking silver mines.”

She looked over to the front seat, where Daniel and Josh now sat. Simon and North were having their own conversation further from the vehicle. Lucy leaned in close to Markus and lowered her voice to a whisper.

“Remember when I told you I know witchcraft?”

Markus nodded. Man, he was getting tired of nodding after doing it all night.

“Remember when I told you I can see glimpses of potential futures?”

He nodded again, and Lucy leaned in close enough to whisper directly into Markus’ ear.

“I’ve seen a future where humans and lycanthropes coexist. A future where we’re not killed, tortured and kidnapped. I don’t know if the world at large finds out that we exist, or if the divide between us and them will be fully mended, but I _do_ know this. The relationship between you and your human companion has a vital role to play in whether or not that future comes to fruition.”

Markus looked at her with slightly widened eyes. But before he could say anything back, Lucy took one of his hands into both of hers. “Trust that relationship, Markus. But most importantly, trust yourself.”

As if on cue, North and Simon climbed into the middle row of seats and the doors closed behind them. Lucy pulled herself out of Markus' personal space and turned towards the window, like nothing happened.

“Everyone sorted?” Josh asked.

“Yeah,” North replied, slapping Josh’s seat and pointing to the car’s console. “C’mon, tell this thing to get us to some shitty take-out place where they won’t question the gang of filthy, tired people out and about at the crack of dawn.”

“Denny’s, it is.”

Josh set the car’s GPS to the requested location, and they were off. The argument they’d been having moments ago set aside, but far from forgotten.

Markus looked out the window for the majority of the journey, and as soon as they got back to the city, he felt his phone buzz rapidly. He pulled it out of his pocket, intending to glance at the notifications and put his phone on silent, and ended up barely managing to suppress a snicker at the messages.

_**8 New Messages (last one received 9 s ago):** Cop Twunk: markus why is my door broken what the fucj happened last night?_

_Cop Twunk: i don’t remember anything except getting drunk and trying to get ready for bed what did you do??_

_Cop Twunk: you left your cloths on my floor and ky bathroom is STILL trashed._

_Cop Twunk: where do you live?_

_Cop Twunk: i don’t want to hold on to uour clothes for a month come on mark_

_Cop Twunk: *markud_

_Cop Twunk: *MAREKUS!!_

_Cop Twunk: close enough whatevr it’s too fuckig early and im’ hungover. !!! i'm going to sleel_

Markus held a hand over his mouth to stifle his amused reaction and opened his Texts to type out a reply.

_You: Probably for the best tbh_

_You: Long story short north doesn’t trust you and she wants you to promise not to tell anyone about werewolves_

_You: (Which you’ve already done like 20 times but most of the humans she knows are bastards so I guess she has a right to have trust issues??)_

_You: Anyway it’s still early as shit and ur probably asleep again so txt me when ur awake and we can figure out the clothes thing (also sorry again about that)_

The car came to a stop, causing Markus to look up at the store they were about to enter. He locked his phone and followed his friends out of the vehicle, unsure if he was excited or nervous about seeing Connor again. On one hand, he didn’t actually remember North threatening him, so maybe he was still okay with seeing Markus. On the other hand, that didn’t mean the pack was okay with it.

Especially North and Daniel. Though their distrust of humans had a good explanation, he didn’t want their fear to stop him from seeing a friend he enjoyed talking to, much less a friend that they had never met. There were plenty of reasons not to trust Connor, from the fact that he was a cop to his status as Markus’ secretkeeper, but there was something about him that kept drawing him back that Markus couldn’t place.

He was good company, yes, but there was more to it than that. An underlying feeling of safety or something like it that Markus had absolutely no idea how to categorize. He couldn’t tell if this was normal, and he’d just never noticed it with anyone else, or if this was something related to lycanthropy.

Markus would be lying if he said it didn’t bother him a little, but something else bothered him far more right now. Namely that he was _really_ fucking hungry. There would be more time to figure out what to do with Connor when he had a large breakfast and some coffee in him.


	7. author's note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the author runs out of steam, goes awol for a month, then comes back to apologise for sucking a lot.

heeeey, sorry this isn't a new chapter. i'm gonna come clean - i've sorta been losing my mind trying to get another chapter out for the past month, i know it's been too fuckin long since i updated this bad boy but i've been writing this thing by the seat of my pants since day one, and i think it shows.

i know this is a fanfic written by a fuckin autistic high schooler and nobody is expecting this shit to be award-winning material, but i still feel like i could be doing better with this work if i'd thought everything through more before i started writing. the issue is there are so many different takes on this au that i could go with, but i can't decide which one(s) to use. if anyone cares enough about this fic for me to restart it with a new take, there's a poll in the end note for this chapter (which is more of an apology/explanation than a chapter but whatever fnjgrwfdsf)

if anyone was just starting to get into this, i'm really sorry!! there's one more chapter for this version of the story that's nearly finished, but proofreading it got really hard because i was so unsatisfied with how the story is framed currently, and it only got harder once i considered starting over with more organisation and less cringy dialogue. like, seriously, this shit's hard to look back on. i know it's probably okay from anyone else's perspective because the only person with a frame of reference to what i had in mind is me, but getting kicked in the balls still sucks even when you're the only person who suffers from it.

...what the fuck am i talking about???

**TL;DR** fuck this version of this au in particular!! i want to restart it and put more thought into the story and maybe add a new idea or two but i need other people's takes on the issue before i can really do anything so if anyone's interested in giving me a second opinion that'd be pretty lit!! there's also one last chapter for this fic so if enough people care about the non-conclusion to this version i _might_ post it??? dfnkgsd we'll see

see you later space cowboy [peace emoji]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if youre interested in this fic continuing then [please take the poll!!](https://strawpoll.com/k15xbewe) please my children are starving

**Author's Note:**

> [cryaotic voice] more to come


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